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The First
Snowfall
The snowflake waves goodbye to
the cloud
pirouettes in a wintry ballet
cascades to earth in delicate whiteness
The city below has been listening
for the whisper of the first snow
it reaches up
looming larger
to greet the snowflake
settled down now in the park
lost amongst its million kin
bare branches, cypresses, pines,
wait with arborly patience;
a welcoming committee
these ever many years,
they stretch out to catch the flurries
to taste them, embrace them
then shrug off their heaviness
to make room for the next show of snow
A drape of snowflakes veils the city
sits in friendly whiteness,
anticipating the boots and mittens
of keen children
Snow puts the city
in white perspective;
it is an eraser
which whites out city blemishes
causes the needed amnesia
of the moment
of the first snow
Winter
I always want the winter to
enter
to feel the relief of the fresh coldness
as it seeps inside my skin
to close the windows
keep out the sounds of the neighbourhood
so that I may dwell in peace
with myself
I love the snugness of my legs in tights
the furriness of my boots
the warmness of wool
the heat of the radiator
and the electric sheet
the comfort of the down blanket
chestnuts
and hot soups
I love to feel the rain plop on my umbrella
and make happy faces at snowflakes
to wade in forests of flowers
and cheer the almond blossoms
But my bones have tired of the cold
which has become a companion constant and dull,
a shadow I find myself boxing with
as I endeavour to remember
the enthusiasm with which I awaited it
And this is the reason
for changing seasons,
that now in winter
I anticipate in appreciation
the coming of a warmer sun
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