posted on 16 Dec 2021

A Winter’s Morning

 

Snow fell silently all night –

large white flakes

that covered everything

in a mantle of white,

so that all the colours

seemed suddenly to have drained away.

 

 

 

 

When we woke the next morning,

we gazed out in awe

at the monochrome picture

framed through our window,

and watched the last heavy flakes,

still drifting down onto the ground below.

 

Five minutes later we were

all out in the farmyard,

crunching the snow

beneath our Wellingtons

and hurling snowballs

with our mittened hands.

 

Poor Ben was ambushed

as he darted from the kitchen,

barking excitedly and snapping

at the last fluttering flakes;

rolling over, then shaking

the snow from his fur.

 

All too soon however

it was time for breakfast.

We sat around the table,

hoping the snow would not disappear,

while the hot coffee mugs

put a tingle in our fingers.

 

Kevin Cowdall

 

(Originally published as part of the Assorted Bric-a-Brac collection)