'Patterns In The Snow' Poem by Linda Winchell

The morning reveals many patterns,
Of those who've come when darkness falls,
I can only make out some of them,
Yet, can not uncover... patterns all.

Three little stick like impressions...
As if in fingers spread,
They go hopping on encrusted layers about,
In the snows white of bed.


Then there are those deeper holes,
That seem to go all the way through the snow,
I can't see where they've started,
Or where it is they even go.

I see my puppies paw marks,
Her's are so easily defined,
I should...for I've had her for many years,
And she is a real good puppy friend of mine.

Here patterns are quite un-uniform,
They travel the whole yard here and about,
I see her foot prints in the snow,
Everytime I let her out.

Soon all the snows' patterns will disapear,
Leaving nothing but its carpet of spring green,
Until next year...just maybe,
More patterns... will in the snow be seen.

By: Linda Winchell