If you close your eyes
And breathe in deep
You can smell the coming Snow
I swear
Like crisp of night
And Autumn leaves
Impending bitter Cold
Is there
Waiting for
A place to be
A place to settle
And Belong
Longing more
For love Unseen
The frigid, gentle
Joy prolong
Of Gathering –
Ten million friends
And family
And frost and freeze
And called to being
Hand-carved men
Of Fantasy
And childhood dreams
Of laden hills
And snowball tag
And Angels born
Of earthbound flight
The evening chills
And tree branch sag
And cocoa warm
And Starless sky
Oh, close your eyes
And breathe in deep
And smell the coming snow.
I swear
In cold of night
As Autumn leaves –
A Memory of home
Is there
©2018 Sarah Elizabeth Moore, All Rights Reserved
From the shores of Wicket Lake,
Advertisements
