Posts Tagged ‘snow


Winter Afternoon

The yellow schoolbus disappears, reappearing
above a clump of evergreens as it labors
uphill to deliver its passengers to their homes,
homes warmed by the smell of roasting meat, carrots, potatoes,
Noble firs, gingerbread cookies, coffee brewing, fires crackling at the hearth.
Silver plumes of smoke rise from the chimneys on the hillside
Then join the steely storm clouds bringing snow.



Sitting on an inner tube at the top of the hill,
Shivering from- cold? adrenaline? anticipation?- till you
Slipped your arms around me, pulling me
Snugly against your warm body. Holding tight, I leaned back… back. In
Slow motion we started our descent, but you expertly
Steered us toward the welcoming sofa, your lips moving against mine-
Softly at first- while my heart swooped and careered.
Suddenly, though by nature a flightless bird, I am free and
Soaring above the surface of the frozen lake. Coming to earth at last with a
Slight bump, I am exhilarated, breathless, eager to return to the

[Thanks for the title @Astrogirl426.]


Happy Thanksgiving

It used to be a day about family
And food,
Gettin’ dressed up to make our journey,
To Grandma’s without snow,
Over the river and through the wood.

Now my folks fight over turkey
And they badger me;
A six-pack of faux beer and
Some KFC
For just me and the cat
Is starting to sound mighty good.


Ouija Warning

The ground is dry. The sun passing bright
Guess what? No snow fell here last night.
I was having Thai lunch with daughter and mother-
Discussing ancient misdeeds of my younger brother-
When Mom gave out an anguished wail.
She’d seen snowflakes amongst the hail.
Our lunch packed up, she high-tailed it home,
Stopping the car in in the loading zone,
She grabbed her to-go box and shouted “Goodbye!
Get home before the flurries start to fly!”
To the library we drove with speed
Stockpiling good stuff for us to read.
Our cupboards and reading list stand at full.
As usual predictions proved to be bull.
Ouija board weather alerts made up by crazies
Tales they create to scare silly old ladies.
Hold on! Here’s another emergency warning:
They meant snow tonight, not last night or this morning.


The Hush of Falling Snow in Oro Valley, Arizona

I was asking the waitress for more hot mustard for the pork when she vanished.
I stood up to discover all the staff was gone.
The service was good-
I planned to leave an extravagant tip-
So it disturbed me to think I would have to get my won ton soup elsewhere
Because everyone not in my dining party had been Called Home.
I looked out the window and saw them catching snowflakes on their tongues.
I realized this rapture was not about a miraculous gathering-up
But a miraculous falling down.
Our waitress returned.
She brought more hot mustard.
We took up our chopsticks.
Everyone assumed their previous roles.
But it would be wrong to say “as before”.
Our waitress was one of those who’d rushed outside when the flakes began
And her face was still radiant from her contact with the heavenly visitors.