THREE SNOW POEMS
I love snow. I’m praying for snow in Indiana--enough snow to sled and ski in Eagle Creek Park, enough to change gray winter days into heart-jogging experiences of delight. Here are three snow poems. The first is mine. The second two are by some two-bit New England poet by the name of Robert Frost (hey, even his last name points to his love for winter!).
HOPING FOR SNOW
I’m waiting on the snow
A hope to fulfill;
I’ll prepare my skis,
Anticipate the thrill.
A Midwestern winter
With its bleak, dark days
Needs a good snow storm
To hearten the soul’s way.
Mere cold stiffens the heart
And drives us inside,
But warmth and four walls
Alone cannot abide.
I’m like a child praying
The snow will be deep
Enough for sledding,
And, tired from it, to sleep.
STOPPING BY THE WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
DUST OF SNOW
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.