just in case

sprinkling of snow on wide urban road before sunrise

This being England, we never really know whether the winter will bring snow or floods or just days and days of interminable grey.

I admit I was delighted that Thursday night brought a sprinkling of snow. It was gone within a few hours and, of course, that may be all we have this winter. So, as I was out early enough yesterday morning to take a suitable photo, I will re-post this poem, in case I don’t get another opportunity:

Snow Song

It’s snowing, says someone who has peeked into the dark night*,

and I wonder if the night is less dark 
because of the snow,
and if snow 
on a dark night tastes different 
from snow
on a moonlit night 
or snow in sunshine; I wonder 
sunshine adds flavour 
to snow flakes, and if each flake

has its own six-edged flavour, 
and how a raindrop feels

when it is caught outside 
on a dark night, and how it feels

when it finds itself solidifying 
into white crystals like feathers;

I wonder whether each feather 
sings a different note, whether

the drifted snow at dawn will sing 
like a flock of birds awakening, 

and whether I 
will hear it.

(*Quote from Charles Simic)

Author: don't confuse the narrator

Exploring the boundary between writer and narrator through first person poetry, prose and opinion

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