Robert M. Simmons  

from Tracings (Poems 1964-1992)

                 Winter Storm

The vanguard is hardly noticed,

    a snowflake here and there,

but quickly a vast armada

    of crystals fills the air.

Shortly the mingled silhouettes

    of cables, poles and trees

are viewed as through the frosted lens

    of distant memories.

The peaks of houses are blunted,

    seen through the falling snow.

The corner streetlight has become

    a subtle orange glow.

A single line of turtle shapes

    treading on cautious feet--

the traffic now in filtered view

    moves slowly down the street.

As snow obscures the measured lines

    of streets, sidewalks and stairs,

figures nearly invisible

    hasten to buried lairs.

Soon, all movement outside ceases

    except the swirling white.

The scents of dampness and wood smoke

    now permeate the night.

Like a heavy woolen blanket

    spread on a sleeping form,

the remnant of a winter's day

    is covered by the storm.

                        © 2003 by Robert M. Simmons

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Subjects: poems about, snow storms, ballads, poetry, poems

Winter Storm