The word: Snow

It had been a decade since I had skied, and in an effort to build up my confidence via the “sink or swim” method, I decided to take the kids skiing by myself. After school, we gathered snacks, warm clothes, and our ski bibs and jackets. We needed skis, so we stopped by the rental shop at the base of the ski road. At the rental place, a sweet guy named Ben helped us get gear. You might wonder: and what happened up the hill? Just the facts, ma’am: we drove an hour up at sunset, hauled our gear to the Christmas-lit-at-nighttime slopes, put it all on (this included a Cinderella-esque snow-boot fitting with my daughter—13th time a charm!) Walking to the lift posed some problems—my babies struggled, protested, eventually took off their skis to walk in their boots to the gentlest lift. The second time we tried to make it to the lift, one child ended up in the splits, the other on his bottom, both crying. This tested my commitment. We decided that a single run was enough for the first time, took off our skis, went to the lodge for fried food dinner. Then drove down an hour in the icy night. Success or failure? We saw a great sunset from the mountain. We had six mostly pleasant hours doing something new together. We paid $120 in food and gear rental (not counting season pass) to ski 25 yards. We met a sweet stranger and got a word.

The Stranger: Ben

The Word: Snow

The poem I wrote:

all bright
shapes,
what
we bid for
& wish,
the quiet
rushes up
& down,
will be
blotted
out by the
snow.

The Challenge: Do you have a poem in you on this word? Write one here.

8 comments on “The word: Snow

  1. Pivot.
    Snow in The Dubliners.:
    Bleak. Foreshadowing. Death. Isolation. Sorrow.

    Snow now:
    A sprite. Flitting from flower to flower, loved to loved.
    Crooked teeth. Steady heart.
    Full of wonder.

    March forward, joyfully, Snow of now.

  2. Martin Mayland of Cedar Creek

    March 15, 2019 at 12:10 am Reply

    Demean the Pristine

    The Argent Lady rules the night,
    Waxing, waning, out of sight.
    With her attraction, she betides
    Earth’s ocean’s actions, she decides.
    Illuminating our darkest hours,
    Silver light and shadow, by turn, devoured.
    From new to crescent, then gibbous, full
    Stars may shine but Luna rules.
    When, at last, we looked with extended eyes
    We found answers to many “whys.”
    Vast dark dry oceans, we call “mare”
    And surrounding highlands, bright appear.
    Comet and meteor’s violent crashes,
    Caused deep depressions, glancing gashes.
    Once we supposed, but could not trust,
    Smashes layer in cosmic dust.
    Selene’s mysteries, at last, unraveled
    When her surface, at last, Man has traveled.
    No water flows, winds don’t blow
    Things once etched do not erode.
    Footprints and tracks made one day
    Are almost eternal, there to stay.
    Untouched, the Moonscape is most pristine
    Unless a crater is deemed obscene.
    If you like the look of fresh fallen snow
    Give some thought before you go.
    If you give graffiti some gravitas
    Leaving footprints might be your loss.
    Like some vast Zen garden of virgin soil,
    Will she fall to our intentioned spoil?
    New fallen snow is so serene.
    Soon our Moon will be unclean.

  3. From New Orleans

    I’ve been having this dream..
    the streets of New Orleans
    overnight cleaned.

    Not swept, or blown or rain-washed,
    but glow in the dark, silent white,
    Bourbon street muffled one milky night
    by the best northern show…
    inches, then feet, of powdery snow.

    Joy-infused jazz
    Sazerac slushies
    Drunks falling, not bruising,
    making snow angels
    all over the streets
    filling the potholes for free.

    A magic white night, indeed!

  4. February

    Inescapable February:
    Dirty snow clings to roadsides
    like day-old mascara,

    under-eye circles on a landscape
    that aches for a fresh start
    or at least a nap.

    Winter’s hangover,
    gone on long
    enough.

  5. McCall, Idaho my friend, my love
    Beautiful floating feeling of
    Snow, beautiful Snow
    Falling, Falling forever above.

    A day a week
    more and more keep
    coming and piling
    on my roof like a dove.

    Three feet, Four, now five
    Water seeping inside
    Our fire has melted it,
    The roof can’t contain

    Damage done,
    heavy snows came.
    Had enough
    Damage remains.

  6. Haiku

    The longer days bring
    To every cherry branch
    A tuft of warm snow.

  7. Deep in the empty pine forest
    of the valley of the Chattahoochee
    well below the Mason Dixon

    no
    snow flurries
    snow flakes
    fall.

    Rather,
    the crystal droplets
    beginning high in the clouds
    warm upon descent
    and end in puddles.

    No
    snow angels
    only muddy treads
    mark my
    journey on this planet.

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