This year, winter brought the din of shifting winds, leaving cold temperatures wherever it went. On Long Island, snow landed and departed in a parade of short-lived storms. Gray skies became the norm. Weather reports gained importance so I searched for one as I prepared to leave Long Island for a state education conference. My destination was an even colder spot. Listening to the meteorologist's report for Albany, NY, I braced myself for a new look at winter: dirty snow piles. Instead, I was pleasantly surprised by an incredibly beautiful scene that could change anyone's mind about snow piles.
Returning home, the gray sky and the rain washed much of what was left of the snow so I curled up reading Ralph Waldo Emerson's poem, The Snow-Storm. Struck by the word choice of the last line that evoked a vivid image, "The frolic architecture of the snow", I chose it for a strike line when writing a golden shovel poem.
Returning home, the gray sky and the rain washed much of what was left of the snow so I curled up reading Ralph Waldo Emerson's poem, The Snow-Storm. Struck by the word choice of the last line that evoked a vivid image, "The frolic architecture of the snow", I chose it for a strike line when writing a golden shovel poem.
entering upon the
quiet spot we frolic
quiet spot we frolic
pondering nature's architecture-
remnant piles of
hardened snowpacks glisten as the
visitors marvel at winter snow.
©CV, 2019
❄❅❆
-a slice of winter to ponder-
©CV, 2019
❄❅❆
-a slice of winter to ponder-
I now will join Two Writing Teachers for the March Slice of Life Story Challenge.
-Day 10 of 31 days of writing-
