Snowed overnight and now, white flakes dance in the air.
The ground pristine, like marzipan on a Christmas cake.
Rays of sunlight burst through, causing ice to glitter.
Silent and still, barely a sound,
just the whisper of birds, the rustling of leaves.
We traipse over a snow covered field to
venture into the forest, transformed by
a carpet of lush thick flakes.
You run off ahead, leaving me behind,
the branches above creaking under
just the whisper of birds, the rustling of leaves.
We traipse over a snow covered field to
venture into the forest, transformed by
a carpet of lush thick flakes.
You run off ahead, leaving me behind,
the branches above creaking under
the weight of an uninvited burden.
Our footsteps leave a trail behind,
deep impressions that spoil the perfection.
Bitter cold wind, to burn my cheeks.
Fingertips numb and painful, toes stiff.
Crisp fresh snow that crunches underfoot.
I quicken my pace, hoping to warm up,
under two coats, a scarf, an extra pair of gloves,
a Russian hat. Yet still, I'm cold. So very cold.
a Russian hat. Yet still, I'm cold. So very cold.
With your thick coat, you don't even notice
the ice particles attaching to your fur.
Bounding over snow-covered logs, you
chase the birds retreating in the hedges,
and sniff out new scents the chill has released.
I pick you up and see ice clumped in patches
between the hair on your paws.
Eventually, we return home to
I pick you up and see ice clumped in patches
between the hair on your paws.
Eventually, we return home to
sit by the fire. Slowly peeling away layers,
warming ourselves with hot chocolate and biscuits.
warming ourselves with hot chocolate and biscuits.
Wishing for another day of snowball fights,
closed schools and stranded cars.
© the dishonest woman
© the dishonest woman
