Tis the season of term papers and exams, but the Magpie prompt and that lovely poem with which Tess led off, not to mention the local weather, beg for a response, so I give you Lemuel Crouse's "Snowflake," first posted back in August.
By Lemuel Crouse
Alone, awash amidst this sea of spruce
and pine I sit. Into the rising fog
I gaze as if to see some mystic realm.
Enchantment drew me to this holy hill
by promising a glimpse of heaven's bliss,
but haze and heavy clouds obscure my view.
The gloom, my doom it is, I think, to see.
What is it like to dream of future days
and not of nightmares past? The wintry blasts
come howling through my brain. Yet on the winds
of pain a solitary snowflake floats.
Someday the snow will fall and bury all
my shame beneath its pristine flow, and I
will know at last a season of new hope.
And now I'm off in search of more coffee and a pair of woolly socks...and another red pen!