November
Glistening white, unique and alone.
Drifting from high above to here
below.
Settling one on another, building
up
A landscape of white.
The empty, quiet world awaits
For that soft touch of frozen
fingers,
Caressing the tree, the brush, the
soil.
White drifting, wafting, floating.
Silence blanketed in muffled chills
Alone, unique, silent, wandering.
Come hushed stillness.
By David Corbet
3 comments:
My poems on snow fall have more colorful language than yours, and for that, are unsuitable to share.
Liked yours, though- almost made me forget how much snow sucks.
Thanks for sharing... :)
First snow fall of the year is always grand and romantic, a sight to see and share with loved one. The last snow fall of the season is about trying to get someone else to shovel the walk and cursing the heavens above.
Beautiful November. Great poem, thank you.
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