Winter is almost synonymous
With a four letter word: Snow.
It seems that the first cannot be,
Without the other to blow, and blow.
Sometimes it comes down
As downy as pillow fluff,
Nearly as large as pennies and dimes
And, OH! such beautiful “stuff.”
When it lights on your sleeve,
Or your tall hat or coat,
Its structure marvelous and crystalline,
But, ah, Don’t you stroke,
For it will melt soon enough,
From its perfect individual shape,
And another that is now falling
It place, at your attention, will take.
Then there is the fine snow,
As fine as ground flour.
Which so neatly covers the ground
In a short time; maybe an hour.
Of course, there are deep snows,
And long snows and short.
And snows in valleys and hills,
And on mountainous resorts.
But in whatever form or manner it comes,
Each has its purpose to bring.
So use it, enjoy it, and make snow men;
Or go out in the evening a carol to sing. – eab, ’64 NOV
Written while studying for my BA in Literature, Cincinnati, Ohio
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