
A snowflake wends its way to earth,
dissolving on your hand.
Two or three and more leave
snow pearls in your hair.
You lift your face to the sky,
receive snow kisses on your skin,
hold your breath
as the magic gathers
and in the drifting white
the world is transfigured.
In an awesome quiet
you listen to the morning,
and birdsong,
that echoes deep into your heart.
For Heather Dawn Kemp
Like this:
Like Loading...
Related
About maskednative
I live in Ireland, in an extended cottage overlooking Waterford Estuary, privvy to constant changes of light on water, colour and movement, tides and people. I am anglo-Irish and although my initial intention was to live here for a year and a day, I am still here, a blow-in to these shores for the past fifteen years. There have been countless times when I wanted to run back to England with homesickness and relief, but for one reason or another, so far, it has not been possible. I surrender, the soul of Ireland has captured me, allowed a glimpse of the world behind the mask of everyday experiences, bringing forth a mixture of words and pictures from an ordinary everyday life, filled with ordinary everydayness that I offer as a celebration, to the creator of this truly wonderful planet.
This poem glistens. Lovely.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Sirena, it’s that time of year again and really is cold enough here for snow. The whiteness of snow, how magical it makes everything seem xx
LikeLiked by 1 person