First Snow

The signs are all around me— skies are suddenly gray-white, and I smell snow is coming, maybe on this very night… ************************ What is this ambiance of awe when viewing those first flakes swirling softly t’ward the earth— a white blanket soon to make? It’s not as tho’, these many years, I’ve not witnessed this same scene— snow piling high on field and trees, and grass no longer green. There is no explanation for the pleasure I now feel as I listen to this old house creak, and think it no big deal. The warmth and coziness inside is multiplied ten-fold, and I treasure it above those things bought with purest gold. Each flake serves such purpose as it tumbles to the ground covering seeds and crops to yield while making nary a sound. Protection from the temperatures dipping way down low— snow insulating ground from frost spread liberally e’re it goes. And I, like many others, who endure long months of snow, get weary of it later on when it curtails where I go. But oh, thru’ frosted window pane reflecting fireplace glow, it fills my heart with wonder, as I welcome the first snow. Tamara Hillman ©2011