Category: Snow

If there’s one thing I can’t abide,
It’s ice which causes me to glide;
If fate would take my little tip,
There’d be no snow on which to slip,
For nothing makes me flip my lid
Like frosty stuff on which to skid.
I much prefer my world unslidy–
And bottoms up is never tidy!

by Ray Romine Monday, October 8, 1951

New snow that softly curved the hill
And piled up glamor on my sill
Has turned, with aid of thaw and soot,
Into just something underfoot.
Old snow is querulous and tired;
New snow is sparkling and inspired.
Small wonder men with sky-turned prayer
Anticipate another layer!

by Ray Romine Monday, December 24, 1951

Applied in lusty swirls and swipes,
Even on the lake,
The snow is glinting frosting
Smoothed on darker cake.

by Ray Romine Monday, January 8, 1951

The first snow’s inimitable saintly profusion
Covers a wobbly world’s dusty confusion.
It rounds off the corners of some of his terrors,
And whitewashes many unthinkable errors;
And so inspired earth shakes himself from his mesh
Of intrigue and corruption, to start out afresh.

by Ray Romine Monday, November 19, 1951

What–Earth dead? She’s only sleeping!
Snowflakes peer from snowclouds keeping;
Then letting go the greying sky
Free as pixies, downward fly.
Now with a sparkling, flashing mirth
They wink at us from Mother Earth.
One small lesson, don’t forget–
Snow is life as well as wet.

by Ray Romine Sunday, August 8, 1954