“Snow Day,” New Era, Jan. 1998, 51
Time melts, it’s spring, then suddenly it’s fall.
The year begins to flicker to a close.
The candle of the day’s no longer tall;
Shadows fill the room wherein it glows.
The sun sends forth cold rays that freeze and bite.
The woods are silent; birds have taken flight.
Then snow falls, whispering lullabies to trees,
and coats the hardened ground with whipping cream.
It waltzes on the brisk, marshmallow breeze
and settles down to sleep and winter-dream.
The darkness of the season fills with white
as snowflakes see the stars and catch their light.
The candle’s nearly out, but crystal snow
reflects the trembling flame of winter days,
collects the light, the fire’s tiny glow,
and holds it till the sun has dropped its gaze.
Then snowflakes come down from the sky to play
and with the captured light turn night to day.