As the hearty ones amongst us on the
mountain embrace the
singularly serene
psychic isolationism that
always seems to come with first
snow, the sun and
clouds wrestle gently for
dominance in the
chill December skies, above the
huddled mountain creatures seeking
shelter from the turning of the
season. As the
heart contemplates the poetry of
snowfall in the soul’s internal
mind, the eye begets its
own new contemplations;
capturable and magic through the
ages.
December 7, 2009 at 12:14 pm |
Very beautiful but I doubt you would be waxing eloquent about the first snow if the temps were in the low single digits as they were here in Eastern Nebraska this am!
December 7, 2009 at 12:33 pm |
Ugh, I remember those kinds of temperatures from a stint in Michigan as a wee lad, and one year in Chicago in the not too distant past … well, stay warm! I recommend, um, red wine!
CW