Snow Day, Snow Way
Some people think I’m crazy, although I don’t think it’s so.
There are certain times for me that I like to shovel snow.
Late at night ‘neath street light’s gleam; cold’s arrived and the air’s chill.
Snowflakes drift in crystal stream through the darkness calm and still.
Taking my shovel in hand, I step out into the night
to a winter wonderland where snow drifts down through the light.
The silence becomes profound. I hear each flake when they kiss
as they tumble to the ground in a steady rush and hiss.
Solitude for me to keep behind a shifting white veil,
I dig through snowdrifts deep built by icy crystals frail.
I toil alone in quiet in a world of white and black.
Sometime you ought to try it and you may keep coming back.
I don’t say it’s a pleasure. So don’t think of me as odd;
it’s a time one can treasure at peace with nature and God.