The First Snow

The prelude to Christmas,

a memory of angels made

in the yard and packed

snow crusted cold on the back of

my neck, trapped in the

material of my mother-knitted

scarf.  

A snowman. Naked trees

so oddly displaying, embarrassed

it seemed, by their loss-

silent in a world of ice.  

Winter birds, my hands

frightened to feed_ they looked

cold without a coat like

mine.

 Bliss that made my fingers

numb in mittens

and breath hot on my covered

face.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Poetry.

One comment on “The First Snow

  1. kimtelas says:

    “Trapped in the material of my mother-knitted scarf”

    So, we need the scarf for protection, yet how it traps us. Eh? Amazing image, you could have said mother’s knitted scarf. But the Mother made this scarf.

    On a nostalgic note: I am hooked on making snow angels. Yes, yes, I am 46. Ahem.

    Growing up in Maine from the age of 12, after living in Houston, Tx, was amazing. There was an entire world that was Winter. This poems brings that to me.

    Thank you!

    Kim

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s