No, I did not misspell snowfall. The title is Snowfell on purpose. I like the thought of a quaint little town in the mountains, slick with a layer of ice, covered in a layer of snow, and dusted with another layer of loose flakes. Where its citizens bundle up in fur coats, sporting long scarves and colorful berets. This place is, unfortunately, fictional. But I did draw from some elements of a European winter. And I can dream.
Based off the latest snowfall in my own little town, the following poem features an early winter.
The crunch of snow underboot
is quite unlike the rub of
some cotton ball, though they both
send a shiver down my spine.
Her aroma tickles my
nose, her pale flakes make me sneeze;
some breeze whirls the strays like grains
of sand on this lived in land.
Mistletoe hangs green on these
bare branches now cradling
white blankets, green parasites,
like some love is born of death.
Fog fills lungs, bitter iron
touches my tongue, eyes water,
souls soak, sweat freezes, smoke blows
on this here autumn morning.
I’m also running a giveaway for my novelette series. So be sure to add it on Goodreads and enter to win one of three free signed copies of Last of the Memory Keepers series! (Offer ends Dec. 8, 2017.)
Let’s chat! What’s autumn like in your hometown? How about winter? What’s your favorite thing about snow?
Similar poems: Weird Winter Weather, In Season, and The Crow and the Heron
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