Life With Horace

poetry & essays

snow terrarium

2 Comments

I stand stock still
snared by this
unaccustomed silence,
backlit in a pool
of warmth and kitchen light,
looking out to darkness
now made intimate
by thick falling snow,
soundproofing all
beyond its edge
until a car appears,
creeping down the mountain arm,
headlights reaching through
lace curtained flakes
wheels soundless on
the road now masked by white
a traveler almost surely blind
determination understood
and much admired by me,
we share this moment
and our quiet space
until my door is shut again
and he has passed us by

______________________________________
the world is well lost and soundless when it snows here. like an infant’s view of life our boundaries shrink for a bit.

Author: Life With Horace

poetry & essays

2 thoughts on “snow terrarium

  1. Kate, lovely…made me smile. I remember the snows of my childhood in Missouri in the Ozark Mountains. There is no quiet like it.
    Syl

    Like

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