A snowy day in Altoona PA

Greetings to all art enthusiasts! I trust each of you is embarking on a fantastic or, at the very least, enjoyable journey into the new year! In our corner of Pennsylvania, we’ve encountered a few storms, and I sincerely hope everyone navigated the weather with minimal disruptions. Our basement experienced a touch of water intrusion, par for the course when snow transforms into rain. I’ve heard alarming tales from across the United States–floods, toppled trees, shattered windows, and undoubtedly more severe occurrences. Recognizing that we share this small world, supporting one another in times of adversity helps alleviate the stress of these challenging moments. If you find yourself in a stable position, a friendly reminder to check on your neighbors, particularly the elderly, though extending care to everyone is a thoughtful gesture.

As for today, we are blessed with clear skies and the radiant embrace of sunshine on snow–a truly delightful spectacle. I am appreciative of this, considering the significant decline in snowfall over the past few years. While I may not be a fan of ice, witnessing the brilliance of sunshine dancing on patches of snow is undeniably enchanting.

I thought I’d share some snow poems for today:

Snow

Gillian Clarke

The dreamed Christmas,

flakes shaken out of silences so far

and starry we can’t sleep for listening

for papery rustles out there in the night

and wake to find our ceiling glimmering,

the day a psaltery of light.

So we’re out over the snow fields

before it’s all seen off with a salt-lick

of Atlantic air, then home at dusk, snow-blind

from following chains of fox and crow and hare,

to a fire, a roasting bird, a ringing phone,

and voices wondering where we are.

A day foretold by images

of glassy pond, peasant and snowy roof

over the holy child iconed in gold.

Or women shawled against the goosedown air

pleading with soldiers at a shifting frontier

in the snows of television,

while in the secret dark a fresh snow falls

filling our tracks with stars.

and another:

White-Eyes

BY MARY OLIVER

In winter

all the singing is in

the tops of the trees

where the wind-bird

with its white eyes

shoves and pushes

among the branches.

Like any of us

he wants to go to sleep,

but he’s restless–

he has an idea,

and slowly it unfolds

from under his beating wings

as long as he stays awake.

But his big, round music, after all,

is too breathy to last.

So, it’s over.

In the pine-crown

he makes his nest,

he’s done all he can.

I don’t know the name of this bird,

I only imagine his glittering beak

tucked in a white wing

while the clouds–

which he has summoned

from the north–

which he has taught

to be mild, and silent–

thicken, and begin to fall

into the world below

like stars, or the feathers

of some unimaginable bird

that loves us,

that is asleep now, and silent–

that has turned itself

into snow.

Source: Poetry (Poetry Foundation, 2002)

This got me thinking. Do you write poems for winter? I would love to share some of your work here. If you know someone who writes, please let them know and I will share winter themed work. And as always, I would love to see winter art. So, reach out and I will gladly share your work.