Becoming a Blank Unknown

 
 

Still it keeps falling--
Billion flakes of tiny white--
Praise be--this wonder!

Still it keeps falling--
Billion flakes of tiny white--
Praise be--this wonder!

A soft white silence
Covers the entire world.
Listen! You'll hear it.

I meet another
Walking on the quiet road.
We smile and pass by.

My loud crunching boots
Speak to me on this journey;
Silence when I stop.

The bend up ahead
Becoming a blank unknown
Waits to be revealed.

In this white silence
A voice rumbles from the sky:
An unseen airplane.

Almost disappeared
A log  lying in the snow.
Tomorrow? Who knows?

A Winter Softness

Sunshine icicles
Glow brightly while they're dripping--
Growing and dying.

Patches of dark black
Lie on background of bright white--
Play of sun and light.

Alfred eats some snow,
Just like any school kid would--
A free snowcicle.

Shadow mountain range
Beside the rocky snow bank
Mirrors what is not.

Sensual white shapes
Sculpted by the snow and wind
Recline in the stream.

The woods are rolling
With shadows, snow shapes, and sun:
A winter softness.

Subaru passes;
I wave at the waving hand;
(Don't know who it is).

Three white capped tree stumps
Ascend the hill like old guards
Of unseen kingdom.

These were written before I left to spend my winter solstice holidays with my beloved daughter, granddaughter and son-in-law on the other side of the country. Hope everybody has a wonderful time celebrating the rebirth of light.

Seem to Hint at Light

 

Icicles glimmer
In the cold morning sunlight.
They are not melting.

Shadows on the snow
Are softer than in the Spring,
Seem to hint at light.

Two blue packages
At start of the long driveway
Speak owner's absence.

A white monolith
Standing at edge of the field--
Sculptured by the wind.

Where's the old stream bed?
Sleeps beneath dunes and shadows,
Dreaming of the Spring.

A little snow bird
Perched on the edge of the pole
Sculpted by the wind.

They went to the woods
These tracks frozen in the snow.
(They do not return.)

Lightly the leaf flies
Skipping across the snow banks;
Stopping for a rest.

White Peaks Everywhere

The little bird house
Has become a witch's hut--
White peaked--inviting.

All is white quiet;
Then the roar of a snow plow.
Where did the silence go?

Eight inches of snow
Silently laid upon the ground,
While the whole world slept.

Faint chatter of crows,
Unseen in the thick gray clouds,
Grows even fainter.

Scraping on the ground
As people dig themselves out--
Shovel symphony.

High leaf silhouettes
Hanging in the snow laden sky;
They know no season.

White peaks everywhere,
On trees, poles and mailboxes--
Soft snowy sculpture.

Purring from a far,
Must be a generator
Chugging out its juice.

 

A Soft Veil of White

 

 A soft veil of white
Gliding down past my window
Lays upon the earth.

 

 Ten degrees outside;
In here it's nearly seventy.
I must be crazy.

 

 The road is a blank;
There are no cars upon it.
Winter's silence reigns.

 

 On top of the fence
Small snow cap points the way;
Guided by the wind.

 

There are just two sounds:
Crunching of my feet in snow
And the singing woods.

 

 Creeping like a bug,
Its bright eyes wide and wary--
Stranger in strange land.

 

 Ghost peeks from his shed;
He looks at me and the snow
And goes back inside.

 

My tracks follow me;
What a strange twist it would be
If I followed them.