Short walk.
Softly snow falls,
quiet, seeing.
A flake floats, hovering moment.
Changes the way
back, continues to descend.
Surfer skimming crystal.
Tender power, creation,
cutback along the crest.
Then on down.
Down down down
below the swell.
Crunches underboot.
Breathless moment
interrupted.
Rigs on the highway.
Distance of thousands,
far. But not so.
Sounds another dimension.
Gliding across waves,
a million miles across.
© 2019 Martin C. Fredricks IV
This early morning quiet / Many inches on the ground / Falling softly still, six-fifteen / Straight down, not a sound….
This early morning quiet
Many inches on the ground
Falling softly still, six-fifteen
Straight down, not a sound.
The sagging branches, wet white
Up north Dakota Territory
The way of it at thirty degrees
Another clean winter story.
Tip toe up and down
Whisper softly to each one
No school today, ice and snow
Maybe heaps before it’s done.
Really seriously can’t believe
Never happened before
Thank you, Jesus, and
Please send some more.
Many an old codger has been heard of an afternoon here in North Dakota praising the extreme weather.
“Keeps the riffraff out,” says Old Boy, motioning out the window of the local cafe over a cup of scalding black coffee.
