Snow scene

Snow scene

I love it when it snows - its so unusual and therefore rather special.  But it has its downsides: I get older I worry more about slipping over, and I tend not to want to drive out of our narrow lane which doesn't get salted or ploughed.


Rain washes away the snow
Returning the fields to green
Freeing cars to a bare faced lane.

For three days I've admired the snow fall
The monochrome landscape
The crisp freshness in the air,
As I carefully trudge ankle deep
Placing each foot with ridiculous care,
A pole for extra support.

Now I'm free to return to the world,
To walk at a normal pace
To drive when and where I choose,
I find myself missing the harsh beauty of the snow.


© Copyright 2019. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved






Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Leave taking

I've been to two funerals recently. I suppose it's inevitable that their frequency will increase as I get older,  and my peer group ages alongside me.  It makes you consider your own mortality, and prompts a resolve to use the days left to you more wisely.  But somehow you never do, preferring to think there's still enough time left.   The death of an elderly uncle is easier to bear. It's possible to reflect on a long life, well lived,  To remember the fun you had when you were small, How he made you shriek until you were breathless,  To consider the grace of his faith, which eased his end.  The death of my sunny, fun-filled friend Is much harder to balance. We are all too aware She had too few years to enjoy her joyful take on life,  Will miss out on too many evenings full of laughter,  No longer guide her grandchildren into adulthood. Both deaths celebrated as a release from pain.  Both lives celebrated as lives lived well.  We carry their memories home with us,   To
Read more

Dont go to India

I wrote this after a toilet stop in the way from Jaipur to Varaneeshya.  Don't go to India  not if you worry about squatting over a hole in the ground, with no running water. not if you worry about hawkers thrusting their wares in your face, "300, 200, 100 only". not if you worry about children caked in street filth, tugging at your sleeve, your heart. not if you worry about rubbish, plastic bottles, bags, packaging, strewn across the streets. But if you can make peace with all that  you will find beauty wherever you look. ©  Copyright 2023. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved
Read more

Ruthless resolve

Day 3:  write a surreal prose poem. Ugh! I don't really like prose poems,  but have written a few.  I've also written a few fantastical poems,  so I decided to give it a try,  rather than do something 'off challenge'. It's probably more prose than poem,  but it was fun. She wasn't overly surprised when her trousers began pleading with her.  Wardrobe doors flung wide, determined to weed out everything that caused pain, literal or psychological, she would keep nothing but clothes that fit, and made her feel good.  Out went those constricting clothes, comfortable only after soulless, painful, denial.  Out went the floaty,  bloaty-day tops that made her look three sizes larger.  Out went a dress bought because it was a bargain, but had never been her style. She was a maelstrom of resolve; she gave no quarter.  All was going well until she reached the trousers, which began to beg: "I've seen you through thick and thin, expanding and contracting without judge
Read more