Terry Trainor | + Follow Poet |
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Snowfall

In a small hamlet people were outside their dwellings staring up at a heavy black sky,
Wind lashed the trees and front doors a big storm was about to happen and very soon,
Small ice flakes whipped up in the wind stinging eyes I had a big dewdrop on my nose,
After some time the blackened sky opened the winds raged and the snow began falling.

Like a roaring bear gusts of winds blew the nearby sea sending salty spray to join snow,
The wind sweeping across the land fiercely blowing gales loosening objects in its path,
An old man curled up against his fire heavy snow swept under his door and over his eaves,
As snow started to fall harder the flakes were huge swirling in blustery bitter cold winds.

That night was so cold every one went to collect logs for a fire smoke rose from chimneys,
Figures seen in silhouette behind lighted icy windows, doors were bolted the eaves blocked,
Friends gathered in each others houses sipping wine their singing muffled by high winds,
The worst storm that many could recall elders told stories of bigger storms tongue in cheek.

All night long snow fell in the morning villagers went outside to see the damage caused,
The sun shone with such brightness the blue sky and the carpets of snow hurt their eyes,
Icy snow was very deep and big white chunks of frozen snow stuck to bottoms of shoes,
A tall tree stood in the middle of the hamlet heavy lines of snow bent its tough boughs.

Stories circulating round firesides of travelers lost in great drifts on wild moorlands,
Wanderers that had perished, frozen in the deep snow all lost in the snow laden woods,
In the morning the snows stopped bringing sunny clear skies that shone like lapis lazuli,
The wind whistled blowing top snow into a fine spray leaving a surface frosty and hard.

There was a wonderful feeling walking along hedge-tops and across deep white valleys,
All now filled and level, the frozen mass crunching under heavy steps in snow boots,
Finding only the rivers showing themselves by their wintry hues amid trees and rocks,
Visitors from the north the red wings, thrushes and field-fares flew back to their homes.

Copyright © Terry Trainor | Year Posted 2012

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