The voices were burly and rough. The chairs were squeaking across the floor. Plates clattered and water was being poured. The heavy collapsing of men into chairs threatened the floor.
Agitation twitched in their voices; fury rose in their tones. Adelaide could distinguish six different voices. One was bawling over the rest in a thick voice.
Cherry cheeks and flushed faces,
Scarlet scarves and loose laces.
Chocolate drinks and a snow flurry,
To the hearth the children scurry.
****
Sopping socks and muddy mittens,
Flickering flames and cuddly kittens.
Chocolate drinks and a snow flurry,
To the hearth the children scurry.
****
Glories of stories and roars of laughter,
Lawrence swung Adelaide up from the side of the ravine and jumped to his feet. He grabbed Adelaide’s hand and started running. She was in pain, and he felt it. Adelaide squeezed his hand as she stumbled along behind his quick floating strides. Only a few feet behind, their seekers were sweeping past their footprints. There was no escape now.
I’m sitting at my kitchen table with my school looking up at me with disdain, as I watch the millions of snowflakes fall one by one onto the frozen ground. There is something so enchanting about how the snow falls, and whenever I see it I stop and try to watch each one find its place. They seem to be searching for it as they drift and finally they see it and float down with white gracefulness to land on the exact spot.
I wonder, how many people stop to contemplate the little things in their life. Like the snow.
Someday, mother, I'll go North
I'll get me a pair
Of snowshoes
And skis
And that's the last
You'll see of me
I'll tell you what I'll do
When I get there
('Course I'll get there)
Do you think I'll run
Under that chilly
Midnight Sun?
Or maybe I'll just
Dig a tunnel
To Timbuktu
Or build an icy igloo
Maybe I'll find me
An Eskimo baby
Or a sled dog team
Perhaps I'll explore
And discover
A Northwest Pole
And be a Santa Claus
Sitting together on the ice and the snow,
Listening to the wolf howl low,
The boy and his dog sat by the fire,
Under the shadow of the church spire.
They’d wandered that day, far and wide
At every house and farm they tried
To find to lay their heads;
To find a place to make their beds.
With frozen fingers and teary eyes,
The boy gazed up at the starry skies.
With child-like faith and belief unbound
He prayed this prayer, so profound.
Snow,
Like a sacrilege to step upon it.
Snow,
Treading in the steps I came in.
Snow,
With such intricacy God made each tiny jewel.
Snow,
In little puffs God's peace expressed
Snow,
I wonder if Adam ever saw it.
Snow,
If so, he chose the most gentle of names to name it.
Snow,
Stop and listen and you'll hear the sound that silence makes,... and through the quiet you'll hear God whisper,"See this? It is my gift to you."
"Snow."
Snow, snow,
from the gray, gray
sky
white and glistening
where rooftops blend
into smooth gray sky
and blackbirds sit
on the wires overhead
crisscross stark
against gray, gray
like bark on the maple
out behind the fence
reaching up, up, up,
like reaching hands
stretching fingers
tring to catch the big, thick flakes
as they fall, fall
and there's so much world here
my boots crashing through
silent steps
cries of delight
ringing through gray, gray
sky