Sorry, been away from the blog for a while exploring life AND writing some new poetry. We had our first snow in Norman Town a couple of weeks ago. Didn't last long, but . . . Well, here's a poem (in two parts) about . . . the weather? By the way, if you want to read the poem on the picture instead of scrolling down to the poem by itself and the print is too small, just click on the picture . . . it will get bigger. {smile}
First
Snow (parts 1 & 2)
(12:30
PM)
The
first snow of the season arrived early this morning.
No
fanfare, no blast of artic air to signal its appearance
just
a thin coat of white greeting me when I finally woke up
and
raised the blinds. It was a surprise,
a pleasant
surprise.
I
may have actually smiled when I saw it.
Not
that I love snow or the cold weather
that
accompanies it. I don't like winter at all.
It
was just—well,
I
woke up in a sad mood, a bad mood,
and
when I opened the blinds there it was,
a
thin sheet of absolute white staring back at me . . .
for
a moment, a very brief moment . . . I
felt . . . happy?
Well,
let's not get carried away.
I
wouldn't know "happy"
if
it came up and bite me on the ass!
Let's
just say I didn't feel quite as depressed
as
I normally am when I first get up,
when
I crawl out of sleep
into
this uncomfortable reality.
Yeah,
I may have smiled a bit, but nothing more.
(3:00
PM)
The
snow still falling. Again, not raging
in
any way just falling, drifting,
swirling
gently to the ground
and
onto the slanted roof
that
covers the front porch
of
my makeshift apartment building.
A
few snowflakes land in the street
and
instantly they disintegrate,
and
just as quickly reincarnate as water,
a
mishmash of runny puddles.
I
feel sorry for them, I truly do.
Very
little time on this Earth do they have
before
they changed into something lesser
than the celestial selves they were born to be.
But
don't get me wrong, I love rain.
Many
of my favorite days are rainy days.
Let's
face the harsh truth, though.
There's
something regal, refined,
and
elegant about snow.
Whereas
rain?
More
working class, rain is.
Rain
is sturdier, more utilitarian,
more
earthly than heavenly.
Rain
is something you make love in.
When
it snows, you snuggle up
with
that special one you love
and
marvel at all that snowy white
floating
majestically to the ground.
Yes,
rain is useful; snow is pretty to look at.
I
play my blues albums when it rains.
When
it snows . . . a Christmas carol
or
funeral march seems more appropriate.
rrw
11-16-14
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