Dawn breaks, I awaken to find
that overnight new snow has fallen,
coating lawn and trees alike.
It softens harsh lines and, to our delight,
brightens the monotone landscape
with untainted softness and purity.
Even the gray hills, once indistinguishable
from the clouds above, have donned caps of winter white.
As children, we relished the new-fallen snow
Bundled in warm jackets and snow pants
boots, hats, scarves and mittens, barely able to move,
we would pull our sleds from storage sheds
heading for the nearest hill, cocoa and cookies
awaiting our return. Years pass, and time takes it’s toll.
We no longer see snow as a welcome reprieve
but more of a chore, an obstacle to get past
I miss the days of mittens drying by the heat,
of rosy cheeks, of less worry and no hurry.
In every adult fraught with concern and responsibility
lives an inner child yearning to be free.
© Ginny Brannan 2025
Image One: Three Children Sledding by Vickie Wade, full credit to the artist
Image Two: Photo of author and friends, circa early 1960's
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Thank you for reading my poetry and sharing your thoughts.