White noise.
White noise.
And there was snow
A dusting of it
Blown softly like white sand across a beach
Flour from an airtight tin
Poured out into a bowl
A little puff, a blowback into the air,
Whitening a too close nose,
As it hit the glass bottom
Waiting for the eggs
Little children standing in line
To lick the bowl clean
Somebody escapes with the spoon,
Whilst an expectant troupe
Of pre-pubescents
With an idea of heaven
Wait for the cake
To be lifted out of the oven,
At its best, whilst still warm.
Snowflakes building up one after another
To form a covering
Feel exquisite beneath bare feet
Squeezing up between splayed toes
For just a minute before the cold registers
Dangling digits in front of an open fire
Relishing the tingle
Never forget about chilblains
As the wind picks up
Powdery snow is lifted up
Into mini-tornadoes
Drifting into corners
Blurring the difference between
The pavement and road
There is a virginal purity
About first thing in the morning snow,
Before the birds have risen
And the milk on the step has frozen
Bursting out through the gold top.
Cars are a family of white elephants
Nose to trunk,
Giant snowballs
Waiting to be rolled
Digging them out, clearing a path
For the wheels to grip
The sweat freezing on a furrowed brow
Eyebrows frosted over
Wishing it was summer
Building architectural sand castles
To a specific design
Winning a pointless competition
Before the tide turns
And the white sand melts back
Into the ocean
It is all the same to me
A speck of dust in my mind's eye
A toy windmill
On a snowman, a sandy beach
A snowdrop breaking new ground
How green the grass
Against the white of melting snow
No longer a dusting
More like slurry, colliery run-off
The beck a torrent of wintery water
Rushing through the valley to the harbour
Raging over white sand,
Spattered with coal dust,
In a skelter of spindrift
A powdering of white water
In an eager quest, to blend, into the sea
A coming and a going
A winter full of summer
At one and the same time.