If there were only the falling snow

The frost intent, the autumn broken
Winter crosses the wooded land, crisp and silent
Ice on a stream like a listless beggar,
Loitering, plunging hands;
Snow drags its belly through the dying thicket.

The timber dry,
The white flakes drift
In the shifting wind.
Red rock
The snowy wash
The cliff like a pinion flight.

And the distant thunder shouting and crying
And the rain in agony in warmer places
And spring with a little patience
And places dry with the mud-cracked earth.

If there were only snow
And no rain,
If there were only the falling snow
Over the wooded land
Stumbling over fallen timber,
Fiddling the air with exhausted fingers
On a winter evening.

The swell of flakes, dry and brittle
White sullen faces about the chapel of trees
And over the tumbled warrens;
Dark clouds crouched, then spoke the thunder
Seals of rain broken,
The daring of snow’s surrender-
By this and only this, the snow existed.

Copyright © 09/04/2016 lance sheridan®

Reine Marie Pinchon


4 comments on “If there were only the falling snow

  1. Barbara says:

    Lance everyone of your writes I comment, “This is the best one,” and then I get another one to read & goodness knows the images jump out like from a film of unbelievable images – you’re displaying some fantastic, profound writes – they’re not just good but excellent!

    • My most sincere thanks and appreciation, Barbara. I am deeply honored by your steadfastness in commenting on and reviewing my work. It also means a great deal to me coming from an exceptionally gifted writer.

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