The Anticipation of Snow

The Anticipation of Snow David J Walker No matter how old I grow The anticipation of snow Beckons the memories of my feet Deep in rubber boots We called galoshes Stepping into a virgin white World of crisp cold The crunching sound of Crushing snow to the ground Below leaving the footprints of tread Evidence of boys and girls In a playground world of winter The picture window in the front room Framed the storm from the warmness of Our house where falling snow is quietly accepted Its joy is in the arrival Its secrets in the style of survival The bitterness excepted And the face of each snowflake a Fingertip printed in the icy touch of winter No matter how much may fall You cannot count them all Banked by the snowplows at night