The Changes In Snow

I can feel that the cold is here
I hear the wind whistling around the corner of the house
A spray of  snow particles hits against the window pane
No flakes, just powdery ice crystals
The breath of the gusting wind whips across the snow
Making the air feel crisp
At first the white is everywhere
Pristine, barren, no foot prints, no tracks
Even the mounds of snow from the previous storm
Are blanketed all in white
The swirling snow drift waves
Ripple like the sands of the desert
From this way and that way
Nothing in its way
Filling in every open gap
Later, the snow is no longer a fine powder
The surface is like rolling white caps upon the sea
Each swell of the snow drift is tipped
As if the artist used a brush
And swathed the drift with contours of light
And the shadows of the dark.
No more blowing drifts
No more gusts from the Ice Queen’s breath
Now the air is frigid
The snow is solid, holding the frozen ground with its grip
As if declaring it as its own
When the snowplow has passed
It leaves towers of frozen crags of snow
The terrain has changed
Now the roads are lined
With torn boulders of ice and snow
As if the land had been blasted
Changing the drifts
To rigid obelisks and crevices into a precipice of snow
I can feel that the cold is truly here.

 

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