To tide you over until the story begins next week I thought I would post a short poem.
This poem bids goodbye to the last bit of snow here in the cold and frozen north. It should, by all rights, be a poem praising the wonders of spring and expressing, with deepest gratitude, the freedom of the great outdoors after long months of being locked inside, however, this is what came out. Hope you enjoy.
Myriad of dropping dreams,
Crystallized rainbow, floating down,
on my porch, on the ground,
Snow hugs a tree, caressing the bark,
Fixed, on glistening windows,
Making life bright,
In dead winter.
Old Man is not for snow,
He scowls at his shovel,
Stamps his foot into glossy prints,
While sleighs of children squeal in delight.
Snow is not for tired,
But for energy balls of tightly wrapped children.
Snow is their domain, an enchanted playground,
Full of dreams.
If you enjoyed this poem try:
One of my favorite poems:The Night has a Thousand Eyes