March Snow


“Peek a boo… come see me.”  A white blanket playfully whispers trough my bedroom window.  As I wake up, eyes half blurred with sleep and wonder, I hear the quiet voice of an already fading snow cover tease me into waking up.

Oh my, the bare branches of trees now have a light trace of snow exenterating their delicate bare branches, highlighting their form.  The maple tree outside my window has red buds peeking through your unexpected cover. The grass is completely hidden but the stone work of the pavement just can’t find a place to hide.  It sits out declaring itself, “unsnowable” and unstoppable in its deep gray grandeur.

Be patient little daffodils.  Your day is coming.  Don’t let the cold chill freeze your energy  or your spirit,  and you will thrive.  In days, the ground will be yours again and this snow will only be a distant daffodil memory.

We don’t see you every year March snow.  Thanks for the visit and your final parting showers for a season about to fold.  Go gently into the night sweet snow.  When I lived in New York I remember you visiting every March, and being reluctant to go.  Now your visit comes as a surprise.  As you powder your face one last time, thanks for the visit, and you are still looking fine.

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