Under the Snow

Under the snow the grass lies smooth and even.
Under the snow the road returns to the land.
Under the snow the bushes sit like stepping stones,
the trees sparkle like rock candy crystals stuck to a string.
Under the snow the picnic table rises like a baking cake,
the chairs with criss-cross bottoms offer waffles to the sky.
Under the snow the barbecue puts on a peaked stocking hat,
the flowerpots huddle like big-bellied gnomes.
Under the snow the swing wears a gleaming smile.
Under the snow our footprints disappear.

We finally got some real snow this week–enough to miss school and go sledding! My favorite thing about snow is the way it completely transforms everything.

The repetition in this poem is an example of anaphora, which was Miss Rumphius’ challenge this week.

For more Poetry Friday, visit Tara at A Teaching Life.

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2014, all rights reserved

Winter

The sun comes late or not at all.
The clouds lie thick and low.
Bony fingered branches crack
in winds that sing of woe.

The earth is sealed with ruthless ice.
The daisies hide below.
The most that we can hope for is
a blossoming of snow.

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2014, all rights reserved

Monday I visited Miss Rumphius and noticed that on Thanksgiving she shared Emily Dickinson’s poem “Autumn.” One look at that and I was tangling with winter. It seemed the perfect subject for a week with frigid temperatures. In St. Louis, my hometown, they had a foot of snow but here in Washington, all we had were cold winds, horrid gray skies, and poetry.

For more Poetry Friday, visit Donna at Mainely Write.