Swallows in the snow

It was brought to my attention the other day that I haven’t written a san san in ages, years. So here’s a san san for the dverse open link night. If it’s a new form to you, the rules are here, plus a link to the source.


The wind is cold that blows the April trees

And strews the blossom on the grass like rain;

Tossed back and forth, the swallows dream of spring.

 An ocean wild of branches in the breeze

Is white with foamy petals, snow white stain

Of swallow breast—where did the warm winds go?

Clouds of blossom torn from boughs yet bring,

Like swallows, promises sweeter than snow.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

71 thoughts on “Swallows in the snow”

  1. I read your poem as the wind whips the trees outside my window, birds flitting here and there. No blossoms yet to float in the air, but the promise is there, it’s there. Lovely poem!

  2. It does not seem fair that some of the most beautiful blossoming is so short-lived; like with my pink blossomed tulip tree.

  3. Gorgeous cadence and flow in this poem, Jane! ❤️ I especially love “Like swallows, promises sweeter than snow.” 🙂

  4. Oh my goodness, I haven’t seen a san san for YEARS. I vaguely remember the form, and attempting it donkeys’ years back. What a lovely rhythm and flow, and the blossoms and swallows – funnily enough, my given name (which I never use online) means ‘swallow’, so this is doubly delightful!

      1. I admit to hating my name for ever and ever, because the way it’s pronounced in my language, it opens the way for children to tease unmercifully. (In Chinese, the tonality for ‘swallow’ is the same as ‘smelly’ or ‘corn’, so you can imagine what my classmates in primary school used to come up with.) I didn’t make peace with it until I got out of college!

  5. Apple has not started blooming yet, Plum is in full bloom (in my house), No cherry tree in my yard, Hope we get a good harvest.
    I have to clean my yard with a broom, Plum blossoms are strewn by the storm, Most of the fruits go to the birds, Cleaning up after the birds is the norm.

    abcabdcd – – wheee. Will leave the rules for you.

  6. I love the way the rhymes are tossed about in the san san form, Jane, and the phrase: ‘An ocean wild of branches in the breeze Is white with foamy petal’.

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