Snowstorm
There’s going to be a snowstorm tonight, I know there is, just because of the uncapturable calm inside during winter, away from the biting cold wind, and the flashes of golden sunlight against the green grass and the colored glass and the brown papery leaves flying in the wind, the snowflakes whispering, singing, the spring blue sky and the sunset violet-gray clouds; all this I can see from my clear doors against the main street and the gnarled naked tree across from the library.
And it goes from the on-and-off flurries of the morning, with white snowflakes and cold awakening-air flying in from the window with the burst of brilliant light behind me, and the beautiful deep evergreens remind me of the golden sunrise in the courtyard in fall, when there aren’t flurries of fairy dust to shake our laughter out of us, but only sunlight to warm our worlds.
It goes from this to dark blue afternoons in the dungeon and colors and music, outside so dark, inside so warm, howling ghostly winds rattling our world, and to afternoons in perfect brilliant cold and light, this is the very essence of winter, it is why I feel, why I love, it is the snow and it is the winter.
And I step inside to see the frost covered air through the window of books and pages and fresh new shelf-carpets.
White, white, white, white sky white wind white air white snow, and I see it all from my watching-place in the dim storycraft room, oh ever so dim against the symphony of violently, rapidly, thunderstormly flying, sea stormly flying snowflakes, whirring past me, riding the waves of violent wind that takes with it clear, new-made sunlight, illuminating everything so my heart and my mind and my soul are exposed in the clear glass window, next to their twins in brilliant colors.
And all too soon it dies, it sleeps, it drowsily drifts in wintry spirals down to the cold, shaken earth, as the world restores itself to normalcy and wellness.
And soon there is no snow at all, as though it had never been there.
But I know still there will be a snowstorm tonight, if only in my dreams and my heart and my soul.
So yeah, did you like it? Not bad, eh? I've never really done this before, tried to capture the entire essence of a type of weather in writing. It's not as difficult as I'd expected.
P.S. There wasn't a snowstorm, actually. The only snow we have seen here in Northeastern America (that's as specific as I'll get, stalkers) is the blizzard in October that knocked out our power, and the aforementioned nonsticking flurry.
Anywho. I stayed up until 2 last night cataloguing all the poetry in my poetry collection. The catalogue is now in chronological order of when I wrote the poems, and each entry looks something like this (example):
Winter
A poem about how I prefer winter to summer.
“Oh, how I dream of star-dropped snowflakes
Oh, how I wish for a world with silken, leaden clouds
Grey and as close above as the hair on my head
Oh, how I wish that the only green were the pine
The evergreen, the everlasting tree of life...”
June 2011
The name in bold, a short one-sentence description, an excerpt, and the approximate month/year that I wrote it. The color code is also useful; this one's red, which means 'nature poems'.
Anyway... That will definitely making choosing poems for this blog easier. I can also post the little catalogue entry at the top of the blog post so that the typical lazy Internet person can just skim it to see if the poem's worth their time. For example, 'Winter' will be found in my December entry, 'Winter Poems'.
Oh my God, that is just brilliant, actually. I'm going to go waste my time (I'm not even out of my pajamas yet) and put those at the top of every entry.
Goodbye, nonexistent readers!
-magic*esi
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