Three seasons

Yesterday afternoon I went down to the lake for a brief walk—it was -9° C but the sparkling sun called me.  I wrote a short poem and took a few photos:

Three seasons converge—

On dusted glass gems

smooth branch shadows lean

over brown leaf scatter

as faithful spring buds swell.

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©2017 Ontheland.wordpress.com

Perspective

We are surrounded

tall snow drifts like ocean waves

blown to our house door—

I shovel an exit to

shallow depths on field beyond.

©2016 ontheland

When the snow came I was so engaged with shoveling and mourning the-first-snow-that-would-stay that I didn’t write about it. This morning I remembered TJ’s prompt: ‘drift’ which really says it all.  The snow blew in three foot drifts to the front door, garage door and all around the house.  You could and can still see the grass poking through the thin layer out on the field.

First snowfall

Stealthy ice crystals

flow from above in silence,

powder-dusted green

  evokes annual surprise—

onlookers gasp: “It’s snowing!”

It’s still October and we had our first snowfall.  It probably will melt soon, but the first snowfall always feels like a momentous event.  I can’t imagine what it would be like to see snow for the first time ever—for a person who didn’t grow up with snow.

©2016, ontheland.wordpress.com