In Chicago last night, Winter made a curtain call. The snowfall didn't live up to the forecast of five inches, but the coverage was enough to make our wooded backyard picturesque this morning. I took a long, pleasurable look out the window, and noted the non-chalant acceptance of the situation by birds, who had recently returned to these parts with the expectation of prevailing Spring weather.
Our children will finish their school work in a few hours, then plunge into our backyard for an afternoon of tree climbing, playing soldiers, and collecting firewood for Dad, so that by the time I return home this evening the landscape will bear a quite different aspect from its present pristine beauty, the contemplation of which led me to pen the following verses.
Though few sights are so lovely as a coverlet of white,
so cold, so crisp and perfect, newly fallen from the heights,
the undisturb-ed beauty of that peaceful winter's yield,
that ornaments each tree and bush, and carpets silent fields,
there is one alteration which improves on such perfection,
that far excels the pleasure of this natural collection,
the evident fulfillment of divine intentions done,
found in little footprint traces of our children having fun.
Copyright 2004 by Larry Naselli