Snow blowing and swirling past my window
As I look out at the white pastoral
Scene Mother Nature has left
With her hands we call the wind.
A blanket of white covers the ground,
The road,
Leaving the trees with a new crop
Of white leaves
On bare limbs
As the white fence accumulates a fresh
New whiteness that failed to exist just
Hours ago.
The wind howls with a music
Of its own,
Creating an overture that while similar
To ones I've heard before
Will forever be heard this same way
Only this once,
The pattern and pitch for this performance only.
I find refuge inside by the fireplace
A warm cup of hot chocolate
Laced with the spirits of
Peppermint schnapps in hand
Which courses its way down my throat
Warming me
And lifting my spirits,
Allowing me to enjoy the beauty
Of this winter scene
Created by surging winds
Whose paths will never cross
This same pattern ever again.
God's gift on a winter day,
A panoramic scene of crusted snow
That will never be duplicated the same
Ever again.
The beauty of which we have mere
Hours to enjoy
And to behold.
Mine eyes have the seen the glory.
