The First Snow


(Jim Archibald) #1

It seems appropriate this week to wax lyrical about the snow. I know it hampers daily life; I know it turns to slush; I know it can be miserable. But who can deny the pleasure it gives when you awake to the first snow of the season. I defy anyone to say they don’t get the urge to pull on their boots, wrap up warm, and plant their feet in undisturbed snow. Once you retire, one of the pleasures you miss most is waking to thick snow, deciding you can’t get in to work, and nestling back into the warm comfort of your bed!! Anyway, my offering for this Advent season:



Bright white light at dead of night, splashed across the orchard floor;
Marks the snowfall's quiet arrival, unannounced at Winter's door.

Huddled thick and deep in corners, scattered thin and sparse on trees;

Shows the path of wild creatures, free to wander where they please.



Sugar -coating winter berries, sugar-frosting sheltered lanes;

Powder dusting window ledges, nicely icing window panes.

Daylight sketching crystal rainbows, sunlight drawing red the edge;

Snow shifts swiftly on the breezes, snow dips curtsies on the hedge.



Dawn comes in on padded footsteps, utters only muffled sounds.

Filters through the gaps in fences, has no limits, knows no bounds.

Gathers round the sides of buildings, rolls unhindered from the tiles;

Spills from steps and stoops and standings, congregates in great soft piles.



Born as rain becoming crystals, formed as ice but falling snow.

Why then does this winter mixture give us such a warm glow?