Snow Days
Hear the wind howl, ice slicking on the panes.
Trees crackling and groaning under the weight.
White out as far as the eyes can see.
Sounds blanketed into silence.
Hear the fire singing, wood hissing and popping.
Heat emanating from the central core.
Kettle whistling in preparation of nourishing liquids.
The house still and quiet.
Feel the quilt wrapped around, feelings of snuggling.
Watching the patterns of snow dancing wildly.
Waiting for the news of the day, the morning beginning.
Soft sounds of slumber echoing through the dawn.
Taking a deep breath of peaceful relaxation.
Enjoying my momentary solitude.
Knowing that soon it will end, they will awaken.
The children are home today.
5 comments:
I can actually picture myself in the room, this is that evocative.
It reminds me of something, not exactly certain what. The SILENCE is like an animal in the room.
Maybe the stillness of a new day dawning.....
That is what it spoke to me of....that final few moments before all the hectic busyiness of the day begins....
Thank you!
LOL! If Astral reads this, she will run around screaming! LOL! Snow days are her scariest moments! :D
My dear Chardonna, this was another very beautiful poem! I must admit to being very happy to live FAR away from snow climates! No more snow for me, thank-you! LOL! ;)
Thanks Zayury!!!
And even tho' you don't like the cold, I am glad you still enjoyed it!!!
Shhh, I like the winter...as long as I don't have to be out in it all that much!!!
There's nothing like watching the snow falling in the night under the streetlights!! And then waking up to see all the trees covered in a blanket of ice.
So beautiful, and stark, and fragile. And yet knowing that there is an underlying deadliness to it all!!!
This was nice! I loved this poem! I could picture a warm cozy night beside a fire, with the snow falling outside. Of course, I live in Florida and we have no snow... but I still like to imagine what it would be like! LOL!
We usually spend our best nights in wintertime, out on the deck by our campfire. My Dad plays his guitar, and we roast hotdogs and marshmallows, and we gaze up into the stars in the sky.
That was beautiful poetry, Melissa! :)
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