A Remembrance of Winter

The snow is falling now, and I am happy to walk through the village and let it cover me like a cloak. The flakes tickle my eyelashes and for once I am okay with giggling to myself and smiling, even though passers by can see no reason for a grin or a smirk on such a grey day.

Grey days hardly bother me. I like the stoic feel of the sky, to find the peeking light in other places when the sun is not shining amuses me and brings me much pleasure. And how amplified the little pleasures seem on days when there appears to be no light. The want or need for them is much greater.

I do not want the winter to end. I really do not. I like the way it makes me feel. I love the coziness of coming indoors from a frosty walk and warming my cheeks by the fire. I like how hot chocolate is smooth and how quilts are heavy warmth wrapped around my legs.

I like the woods when it is snowing. How the birch looks behind a sheet of falling snow. How the evergreens become white monuments with green needles poking through. How tracks outline a walkway of otherwise white roads and guide me anyway and every way. And if I find a lonely path, I would hope that my own tracks would not be covered by the ceaseless snowfall, though beautiful and silent, that I might, when I desire, be able to find my way back.

T. DM

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A Window With A View

Do I look upon a wintry night?

From a window with a view?

From a frosty ledge with chattering teeth,

All snuggled up in wool, and wear?

Or do I look upon a wintry night

From a rooftop high in the city’s core?

Leaning against a chimney with sniffles

Of ice, dripping from my frosty nose?

Surely I am bound to see more stars

With the sky as my canvasing frame

rather than if I were looking through layers

of glass and window pane,

for what is a perfect night

behind a wall?

Nothing but vicarious meandering

And wishful thinking,

No frosty breaths or rosy cheeks

To conjure the season’s spirits,

What a shame to let the

frost dissipate in that way.

 

T. DM