and it’s warm if you snort it.
ducks. ducks hate snow
because it blindfolds the grass.
snow grows giants. you walk over it
and your prints get bigger through the day.
roses in snow look like
ladies in furs.
snow doesn’t hide the cracks,
it cushions them.
when snow gets sick, it gets angry
and hard, like ice.
angry snow hurts. it makes
going for a walk scary.
the men in orange jackets take scary snow away.
maybe it goes to prison, maybe they kill it.
the snow that’s left gets old and tired, even the snowmen.
eventually they shrivel up to look just like rocks. And that’s the end of the snow.
3 comments:
Love this! We still have quite a bit of snow in our backyard, it seems to have been deeper this side of town (near the hills)
renee. this is terrific. so much of *you* comes across...you and snow :)
perfectly wonderful. thank you,
--susan
I agree with Susan - this is an exuberant poem (and photo) and says as much about you as snow - I have been teaching my kids to write List Poems and this would qualify - if I have time next week I'll read it aloud to them! Left you a message on Catherine's blog, Renee, re. meeting up with the Chch Tuesday Poets - we had a lovely time at a Wgtn branch meeting of Tuesday Poets the other week. Very replenishing. Recommended.
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