Craig W. Steele
I love snow, snow, and all the forms of radiant frost.
ó Percy Bysshe Shelley
I dearly love winter, canít give you a reason
why everyone thinks itís a miserable season.
The first winter storm brings me heart-felt elationó
after weeks of fall chill, I find fresh inspiration.
I glance out my windows and see, finally,
just remnants remain of what fall used to be.
The pewter-gray skies, although once clear and blue,
are shedding white tears for the change in their hue.
The frost-covered tree limbs, with every leaf shorn,
are heaving like ghost ships, wind-tossed and forlorn.
And even the green grass, no longer with sun,
where bare feet no longer can happily run,
is sighing in ripples with each wintry gust,
like bringing back spring is an absolute must.
As snowflakes start swirling with gymnastic grace,
and daintily dancing across my chilled face,
I soon am enjoying my own special place:
embracing the winter in winterís embrace.