I really miss snow.
Family and friends remark, “Easy to say from Florida.”
They may be right; nevertheless, beautiful winter scenes created by the recent blizzard bring me happiness and serenity.
I found myself reciting Robert Frost’s poem, “Stopping by Woods on Snowy Evening.”
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Poem by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Frost found words to express a feeling so special it has ownership. Not his, but one to be shared.
The line, the only other sound’s the sweep of easy wind and downy flake, sparked my poem;
Sounds of Snow
The sound of snow after falling
A quiet stillness penetrating crisp air
Listen intensely for snare drums not there
The howl of the wind mimics French horns
Stop in soft snow tracks
An acoustical silence alone
An absence of flurry
Close your eyes
Hear the gentle whispers of nature singing
Remember that sound after snow falling . . . never there
. . . . just saying