The shadowed daylight spoke of cold to come;
So softly telling tales of falling snow,
With frigid blasts to leave cold fingers numb,
And massive drifts of whiteness, built below
The curtained windows facing to the West.
Big snowflakes, dancing shadows in the light,
All scurried back and forth to find their rest,
And sighing, noiseless, faded from my sight.
Enchanted by the silent dance in white,
I stood, and rapt attention fixed my gaze
At once, upon the bleakness of the sight,
Of delicate and deadly winter days.
I reveled in the energetic mime,
This deadly dance of white in Wintertime.
Mick McKellar
January 2015
As you can probably guess, I spend a great deal of time looking out my windows at snow falling day and night, here in the Keweenaw. It has an eerie beauty all its own.
Mick
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