Twelve inches of snow fell throughout the night
Creating a white blanket by morning
I lie in bed under my comforter.
Peace.
I direct my thoughts inwards and feel my own kindness.
Outside, shoveling is meditation.
Pushing.
Lifting.
Snow slides off the aluminum shovel like grains of sand
Falling from my plastic scoop in my childhood sandbox.
I am as hot inside my snow pants, down jacket and gloves
As I was then in my tank top and shorts.
Snow three feet high lines the driveway now
And I am reminded of being on my back in my snowsuit
Kicking tunnels into similar snow piles as a kid
Playing in homemade forts until my cheeks turned red.
My cheeks are the same red today.
Though I won't go sledding or build a fort
As I might have 35 years ago.
Instead, as I lift another full shovel,
I smile at the younger me.
Grateful that her energy and playful spirit
Are still inside.
*This poem came to me February 13, 2007 and I post it today in honor and celebration of the new season's first accumulation of snow.
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2 comments:
Lucky! Would love some snow! I love waking up and seeing it, like an unexpected gift.
Yes, it is, especially the first snow. The snow has now mostly turned to icy slush and icicles cover the tree branches and hang from metal speed limit signs on the sides of the road. A glaze covers the farm fields. Driving the 30-minutes home from Celeste's house in these surroundings felt like communion with God.
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