Tuesday, 3 February 2015

The Snow that never drifts -

I woke to snow this morning. This is always exciting, especially if it's the first of  the year (and might  well be the last). It was only a couple of inches but it had worked that white transforming magic on the garden, the streets, and the park as I walked through it on the way to the station. It was soft snow, never going to last, and has probably already melted away -  'transient, fragrant snow' as in Emily Dickinson's poem:

The Snow that never drifts —
The transient, fragrant snow
That comes a single time a Year
Is softly driving now —

So thorough in the Tree
At night beneath the star
That it was February's Foot
Experience would swear —

Like Winter as a Face
We stern and former knew
Repaired of all but Loneliness
By Nature's Alibi —

Were every storm so spice
The Value could not be —
We buy with contrast — Pang is good
As near as memory —

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