Snow falls

Photo©Tim Green
Queensbury, close to where I was brought up.

Snow falls

only in the mind’s eye now,
a glass globe, a postcard,
face pressed to cold glass,
how it covered those fields
where black walls ran,

but I see it still,
like the ghosts of winter hills,
the dark sea rolling,

and in the nightwind
dead voices whisper
with the pine-scented tinkle
of glass decorations,
reminding me of its magic.

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.

21 thoughts on “Snow falls”

    1. Childhood memories are so vivid, even of things that later became very familiar like snow. I wonder if it’s because children really look at things and adults skim over, no time, lack of interest, too many other things to do? I can remember the pattern (antique coin design in shades of dark blue) of the carpet I learned to crawl on far more clearly than the carpet in the last rented apartment we all lived in. Couldn’t even tell you what colour it was.

  1. You are living in a wonderful landscape, and with snow its mystic too. I have to apologize for another late revisit, Jane! Let me wish you and yours a happy, blessed and prosperious New Year! I hope you all are well. Best wishes, Michael

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