horseshoe pattern prints trails bend and cross this first and freshest snow surely, a rabbit; and now in this midnight hour the tracks have gone so I wait, for my friend
notes… maybe the ocean is not my only muse, there is the weaving of the breeze through the trees picking off leaves in autumn, the cricket’s symphony on a late summer’s night, and this, silent, clean, pure snow, watching it fall, wrapped inside the comfort of a home, checking the window view as the snow builds up, on the railings, on the tree limbs, slowly covering everything with a white sheen blanket, the kid in me wants to run outside and roll around, the me of now, content to watch and reminisce…
there is a calming in the falling snow, not a blizzard, just what you would order online, on cue, if you could, small flakes that barely leave a mark, just gracing the branches with a hint of white glisten, a calming, as if weaving a slow blanket across the land, all these pieces somehow in silent cooperation, no wind has come to ruin this show, no biting cold to chase these eyes inside to burrow in a blanket, so I may just stand here under a street light, watching the crystals cascade, like slow motion frozen captures of rain, holding out a hand to catch a glimpse, how this snow brings back rushes of memory, sledding, snowballs, snowmen, and cocoa, the worldly melts away as I observe this little truth, a smile emerges, mostly inside, with warmth, sometimes there is perfection in things, this is one of those nights, here under the street light, just being a figure in this slice, all the while around the floating down, there is calming in – this falling snow, I close my eyes and try to commit this to dream so I may recall this again.
a gentle snow falls the calming snow does slow pause this frozen moment
notes… I consider this part of my porch series, as I was engaged in the mundane, taking out the garbage but I was thrust into a snow globe, a nice one without so much shaking, I was consumed by how calm and beautiful tonight was, just a simple thing, maybe we forget, I am trying to stop and admire the world I am alive in.
Shades of My Garden 