 |
A Winter's Day |
- First Movement
- I look out from my bedroom window,
- Stare downward toward the glist'ning snow,
- A blanket deep upon the hillside,
- How deep exactly none can know.
- No thing protrudes above the whiteness,
- Save cherry tree trunks wet and dark.
- And each sports narrow stripes of brightness
- The wind has stenciled on their bark.
- The snow and wind gave way this morning,
- Though no small footprints have appeared
- To break the stillness or give warning
- That living creatures venture near.
- In clean unbroken lines the snow drifts
- Are swept into elliptic curves,
- No defects tread upon their neatness,
- A sense of order is preserved.
- Second Movement
- This silent scene gives way to laughter
- The slam of doors and running feet,
- As children sprint outdoors to master
- This world of snow they rush to greet.
- Each architect builds forts and castles,
- And Igloo shapes are mounded high.
- Each engineer builds icy runways
- As speeding sleds attempt to fly.
- Each skater seeks out perfect circles
- Scripting letters one by one,
- And every message has its answers
- Blurred by peeping mid-day sun.
- The snow makes every child an artist,
- With brushes made of hands and feet,
- All painting angels in the snow-drifts,
- And sculpting souls for them to greet.
- Third Movement
- Their mother calls them from the doorway,
- Her shawl wrapt tight against the cold.
- They leave behind snowballs and castles,
- A new-born snowman stands alone.
- The snow begins to fall again now,
- Like coral sand washed from the sky,
- I gaze out from fog-rounded windows,
- For features to judge distance by.
- The children's random maze of footprints
- Grow smooth and round, no longer hard,
- Their day's adventures now are only
- Slim dotted lines across the yard.
- The snowman's carrot nose now features
- A stenciled line that's all his own,
- His smile takes on a certain softness,
- As hour by hour his visage grows.
- Fourth Movement
- The fine white grains continue falling,
- The dunes of snow grow more complete;
- The wind-whipped spray among them rolling,
- With swirls that tread like dancing feet.
- The cold is falling with the darkness,
- The fog on windows turns to ice.
- Accumulated layers of whiteness
- Now fade into the grey of night.
- All signs of romping feet in daytime
- Grow smooth and rounded in the dark,
- The centers of each foot and boot print
- Now match the black of cherry bark.
- The snowman's carrot nose glows faintly,
- A dull receding orange spark,
- His oreo eyes are filling slowly,
- Their hollows squinting in the dark.
Back
© 1998 Stephen L. Spanoudis, all rights reserved worldwide