Snow

A very white Christmas. Somewhere around a foot of snow on the ground here, with a fresh three inches this morning, and more on the way in a day or two. It's also around 20, which is the warmest it's been in a few weeks. I have the fireplace going, and candles around the room, as I sit in the pink sunset, with the Xmas trees lit up around the house. The wind is picking up a bit, and the snow-covered evergreens out my window are waving fronds in the fading light.

deer tracks pace
across fresh snow and lie
in circles between the pines



•

A favorite winter song of mine, in a favorite setting:



White are the far-off plains,
And white the fading forests grow;
The wind dies out amongst the tides
And denser still the snow,
A gathering weight on roof and tree
Falls down scarce audibly.

The meadows and far-sheeted streams
Lie still without a sound;
Like some soft minister of dreams
The snowfall hoods me around;
In wood and water, earth and air,
A silence is everywhere.

Save when at lonely spells
Some farmer's sleigh is urged on,
With rustling runner and sharp bells,
Swings by me and is gone;
Or from the empty waste I hear
A sound remote and clear;

The barking of a dog,
To cattle, is sharply pued,
Borne, echoing from some wayside stall
Or barnyard far afield;
Then all is silent and the snow
Falls settling soft and slow

The evening deepens and the grey
Folds closer Earth to sky
The world seems shrouded, so far away.
Its noises sleep, and I
As secret as yon buried stream
Plod dumbly on and dream.

I dream . . .

Poem: Archibald Lampman (1861-1899)
Music: Loreena McKennitt