Snow Falls From Then to Now
Pluvius couldn’t make up his mind between
snow and rain – so he sent small snow, small rain
together. A small quiet joined them, so dog
and I walked with all three, a little wet, a little white,
a little inward. Last night, when I rose to comfort
him from some disturbing doggie dream I could
see whirls of whiteness dancing in the steeetlight
and heard myself think, “Silent snow,
secret snow.”
Early waking let me watch the fall continue through
a blue-gray dawn sky. Morning walk – short, dangerous,
ice beneath the white coverlet. Greystoke didn’t
like it either so was quick, though I had to push
my walker across the tundra to pick up his leavings.
So, this is an ordinary poem about ordinary, But I’ll add a
small quiet blesses us all.
by Nils Peterson
from Task: To be Where I am
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