Poetry Friday: "Private Snowfall"

“Hold on, there, Matt!  It’s not even Labor Day yet, don’t rush the season!  What the @#*! are you doing?? ”

Sorry.

I’ve had winter on my mind quite a bit lately; not because I necessarily miss the freezing cold temperatures, tear-duct-stinging winds, or thick, heavy blizzards that cause everyone to either slow down to a snail’s pace while driving, or come to a complete stop when they drive off the road into an embankment.

On the contrary, I love summer.

I love the sun beating down on me, whether I’m working in the garden, cutting trees for firewood, or lying on the beach.  I love the fact that there is rarely a summer rain shower that is too cold to enjoy running around in.  And I love the fact that women’s clothing becomes more and more optional the higher the mercury rises.

(Hey, I’m just a guy.  Sue me.)

“It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity.”

You know how people love to say that?  With me, I’ll take either or both.  It’s not that I dislike the other seasons – but spring is muddy, fall means wearing layers, and winter brings freezing cold temperatures, tear-duct-stinging winds, and– well, you know.

So imagine my surprise when I discovered I was in the process of writing a winter-themed poetry collection!

To those who don’t consider themselves writers, it would seem impossible to write something, yet not realize you’re writing it.  To those of us who do consider ourselves writers, it happens way too often.

In this particular case, I was simply looking for a common theme to some of the children’s poems I had already written, when I started realizing how many had to do with winter.  Usually, I write poems first, then figure out what to do with them afterward; but I wanted to create a more tightly-focused manuscript than the loose-knit ‘generic children’s poetry’ collection I had already assembled.  Once I counted a half-dozen winter-related pieces sitting there waiting to be published, I figured I’d best get cracking and give these poems some brothers and sisters.

Hot off the press…

Unlike the previous children’s poems I’ve posted here, which were written one, four, and 10 years ago, this is my most recent one.  And when I say ‘recent,’ I mean I just completed it a few days ago – it’s very new.

I like to say, the ‘think’ is still wet.

It’s a bit different from the other poems of mine you’ve read, but I like to write in all sorts of styles and forms; it not only keeps things interesting for the reader, but it keeps a writer sharp when they force themselves out of their comfort zone (more on that in a later blog post).

So far, I’m happy with the way things have been going, too – I think I’ve written a half-dozen new poems just in the past couple of months!

Apparently, summer loves me, too.

Private Snowfall

School bus,
morning
window seat,
peering through the frosted glass,

winter world
is waking up;
signs and streetlights quickly pass.

Index finger’s
steady nail
carves a path through icy land,

leaves behind
a scrawling trail,

little flurry
in my hand.

-Matt Forrest Esenwine

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