Snow-fall Sonnets

The winter-dawn scene is white-sheen serene

No hint of tempests that tortured night’s girth

Lambasting hollow and tall evergreen

Sweeping stray petals of fall from the earth

Now children wake with a shriek of delight

At last old man winter has ceased to snore

Flinging his blankets of snow-powder white

Into the sky with a sulk-bulky roar

As gray-umber scruff of pasture and bluff

Boast gleaming robes of gilded royalty

Glistening diamonds bedazzle the cuff

Where pauper’s ragged tatters used to be

Elements shudder then softly release

To hill and gutter sweet heavenly peace

***

What is so rare is a fine winter day?

Though June doth possess verdant emerald gown

December polishes November gray

Decking youth’s folly with wisdom’s white crown

Over the stubble and trouble-wrought past

Grace is bestowed, not in pewter-pitch ash

But tumbling and twirling, old man winter’s blast

Blankets dull yards in silver-studded sash

Rousing within us the slumbering child

Urging us to suavely brave the sharp chill

Dashing through unblemished field, free and wild

Pausing to touch the air, stringent and still

For sure as sure as the summer doth pass

Soon this day too is a drop in time’s glass

***

Firesides beckon; orange-leaping romance

Snickers and smolders; its mystic tenure

Bestowing to poets and dreamers a dance

Of flickering flame in amber allure

Outside the artist, most often despised

Paints masterpieces into the dark hush

Though oft he is cursed, berated, chastised

Still he extols Heaven’s Hand ‘neath His brush

This is the season of sleds, skates and books

Tender hiatus from dirt-dreary toil

This is the reason for cozy house-nooks

Mini vacations from work-weary spoil

Gather your loved ones and let the winds blow

This is the season; let it snow, let it snow

© Janet Martin

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