It may be a myth that Inuit, who live in the snowy north, have many words for snow, but it is understandable why the myth persists. Snow is dynamic and beautiful in its many forms. This year is the first I have taken notice of what can be called “snow lace” as the days melt and freeze creating filigree in the lingering snow. Enjoy the poem.
Threads of spring and winter
weave themselves into
white lace spread upon the grass
as if waiting for a dainty picnic
this warming day.
The winter birds still fill their bellies
knowing the lion of March may yet come
with its thick fleece to spoil spring’s crochet.
We are in that limbo time
ready for the industry of spring
yet holding onto the cozy of lazy winter.
A walk in the crunch and squish is in order
looking for those tiny bits of green
in nature and in ourselves.