SONNET TO THE FIRST SNOWFALL
Behind her wrinkled monkey face
An apple-cheeked lass still smiles
At the wintry woods as a welcoming place:
The trails ahead beckon for miles.
But the creaky old back refuses to bend
To strap on the cross-country skis.
It’s just as well. Two turkeys send
Their calls from neighboring pine trees.
The winterberries wink red in the snow.
Ahead are the tracks of a snowshoe hare.
Her winter boots will suffice, she knows,
For a brief but rewarding excursion there
Where the red squirrels’ litter will be found
And many other treasures abound.
Leave a Reply