Filed under: cold, Farm, farm life, weather, wind, winter | Tags: poetry, snow, winter
Snows on the prairie
Over the ground lays a mantel of white, for the winds of the prairie are still,
But folk here all know that the long winds will blow, and that snow will move to where winds will.
That lovely, still snow tomorrow will lie, in drifts that are hard near and far,
So look well my friends at this still, shimmering snow, that tomorrow will bury your car.
When cold winds do moan and tree branches groan the new fallen snow will take flight,
Snow again takes to the air, to move here and there, to places revealed by morning light.
Then snow sculptures will form, in strange shapes smooth and worn, in places away from winds might.
New wonders will be revealed, and my soul will be healed, by the wonders shown forth at the death of the night.
Soon I’ll venture forth, away from fires warmth, to see what’s revealed with morning’s birth,
Small creatures will join me, from tunnel and tall tree, their tracks, they shall add to my mirth,
But I’ll not tarry too long, for the wind it is strong, and I do know what my life is worth,
I’ll come back to my chair, my book it is there, and the fire, it will warm me in the hearth.
A poem inspired by a walk in last nights fresh snow.
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