First Snow
I want the world to stay like this,
fragile and new in the early morning:
first snow on the silhouette of every tree,
stars fading into the sun’s first light.
Fragile and new in the early morning,
I wake to lift my son from his crib.
Stars fade into the sun’s first light.
Sunrise is a blossom through winter fog.
I wake to lift my son from his crib.
His eyes watch me. I listen to his breath.
Sunrise is a blossom through winter fog.
Beauty is a silent teacher.
Maybe his breath is the sun.
I pull him close, turn his face to the window:
beauty is a silent teacher.
A doe lifts her head in the frozen field.
My son’s face at the window,
first snow on the silhouette of every tree,
a doe lifts her head in the frozen field:
I want the world to stay like this.
1 reply on “First Snow”
I loved this Julie. Not just the imagery, but the structure as well. Beautiful writing.