and a cool shot of the barn light during the snow...
I have to say that I haven't been enjoying winter all that much for the past few years. Apparently winter isn't as much fun when adulthood sets in. While as a kid snow used to mean forts, street hockey, snow days, etc; snow now means snowblowing, driving to work when others have snow days and more snowblowing...and yes getting stuck here and there occasionally. No one prepares you for this that's for sure.
I wrote this in 2002...it is quite appropriate for the snow that has quietly been falling for the past week with temps hanging out in the single digits.
#88 model for winter
this storm has no memory,
it goes on without purpose,
as though it forgot why it started in the first place.
it is total.
“it was evening all afternoon,”
for a whole week straight.
this is the second half of another poem that i wrote a long time ago, also very appropriate: it's named quiet enough to hear.
...the snow, again fell so effortlessly.
at that moment everything was paused, frozen in more ways than one, yes, paused.
snowfall brings with it silence, a silence like no other.
nothing moves at times like this.
summer nights have a rhythm to them,
winter nights are a deep breath in no hurry to exhale.
the jets overhead arc out of earshot and silence returns.
quietly the world sleeps as nature wills itself on,
all the while i stand quietly so as not to disturb.
i remember winter nights like this when i was a kid,
outside building snow forts with dad and todd, mom inside with warmth, waiting.
the ubiquity and beauty of snow is as always,
quiet enough to hear.
for the listener, who listens in the snow,
and, nothing himself, beholds
nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.
-an excerpt from the snowman by wallace stevens