Nov 09 2008
Flow Snurries and Stuff
How about a poem for a Sunday morning.
I hope you enjoy it and the lovely day.
Flow Snurries
by Therese Haberman
Stomp up the disappearing path
Hear the snow crunch into my boot treads
Frosty air electric with tiny crystals
Swirl and dip in a magical winter dance
Melt softly against my cheek with sizzling stings
Drift back in memories to giant snow forts
Igloos with secret tunnels took hours of excavation
Made with two-toned brown wool mittens
Little hole near left thumb
Where bullets of snow found cold skin targets
Snow angels with great flapping wings
Triple-decker people had granite eyes, carrot noses, maple arms
Worn out red and green scarf loaded with downy pills
Dressed my snow folk for many generations
Silent, stoic beings served as the sentinels of childhood
Reach for the straggly canvas strap on my silver flying saucer
Seems like just yesterday, flew down the narrow nubby hill
At the back of the yard, knew each rock and crevice
Tangled landscape my mind will forever recall
So large and wild then, an ancient medieval forest
Each passing flake floating by my frosted window
Returns me to that enchanted world
Pure white innocence with snow-capped mountains of dreams
Long and free child hours where no clocks tick
No thoughts race and my mind roams as free as a passing flurry
photo courtesty of Americanrag.com
