Fawdon Snow Poem by Mick Law

I closed the door silently with strange echoes,
My feet felt the cold compacted crunch of virgin snow.
I shivered then smiled.
The view before me was of soft woollen, curvy shapes
There were no hard defining straight, black bordered lines to set my day.
There was white on white and sky merged with street.
I walked with short, frictionless, slidey steps
I stooped and made a snowball
I laughed out loud before catching myself and focussing once more, on my business day.