There's Snow...
Posted: Fri Mar 09, 2018 6:19 pm
There’s Snow…
There’s snow that is fluffy and dreamy and deep, but you don’t see it often ‘round here.
There’s snow that is icy and hard. It hurts if you happen to land on your ear.
There’s snow with a fine, brittle layer on top, a treacherous, breakable crust,
With soft, yielding snow sitting right underneath, to leave the poor skier nonplussed.
There are days when the sun’s beaming down from on high, in a sky that is crystalline blue.
There are days, when the weather’s so bad you remain in the clubhouse, with nothing to do.
There are days when the snow turns to sleet turns to rain, and it runs from your neck down your back.
There are days when the weather starts fine, but turns foul, and you shelter a while in a shack.
Down in the valleys, the blizzard is blunted. Often the air is quite still,
While up on the ridges the gale is gusting. It’s fierce in its fury, and shrill.
Fragments of ice are blown into your face. It stings you like sand at the beach,
And if you’ve forgotten your mittens and hat, the wind has a lesson to teach.
Sometimes the gradient’s gentle and kind. Sometimes it’s cruel and steep.
Sometimes you’ll glide like a graceful gazelle. Sometimes you’ll land in a heap.
Sometimes your spirit will lift to the clouds. Sometimes you’ll shudder with pain,
But most of the time, when you ski down a slope, you will want to ski down it again.
© Stephen Whiteside 08.03.2018
There’s snow that is fluffy and dreamy and deep, but you don’t see it often ‘round here.
There’s snow that is icy and hard. It hurts if you happen to land on your ear.
There’s snow with a fine, brittle layer on top, a treacherous, breakable crust,
With soft, yielding snow sitting right underneath, to leave the poor skier nonplussed.
There are days when the sun’s beaming down from on high, in a sky that is crystalline blue.
There are days, when the weather’s so bad you remain in the clubhouse, with nothing to do.
There are days when the snow turns to sleet turns to rain, and it runs from your neck down your back.
There are days when the weather starts fine, but turns foul, and you shelter a while in a shack.
Down in the valleys, the blizzard is blunted. Often the air is quite still,
While up on the ridges the gale is gusting. It’s fierce in its fury, and shrill.
Fragments of ice are blown into your face. It stings you like sand at the beach,
And if you’ve forgotten your mittens and hat, the wind has a lesson to teach.
Sometimes the gradient’s gentle and kind. Sometimes it’s cruel and steep.
Sometimes you’ll glide like a graceful gazelle. Sometimes you’ll land in a heap.
Sometimes your spirit will lift to the clouds. Sometimes you’ll shudder with pain,
But most of the time, when you ski down a slope, you will want to ski down it again.
© Stephen Whiteside 08.03.2018
