Treasure Island

Joseph T. Renaldi

(Frackville, Pennsylvania)

Winter Tradition


So much of the thoughts of winter,
The sameness of them all -
Always the snow shovel on the porch,
The galoshes in the hall.

The dark clouds hung overhead,
Squeals of children sledding on the hill,
The sparkling snow that holds its viewers
Silently delighted by the old gristmill.

The family gathering around the fireplace
Strangely content in their own way.
The old, the very young listening
Attentively and willing to stay.

The same dreary outcomes of a winter storm,
The treacherous, snow covered trails,
The same old stories of winters past
That grandfather always diligently tells.

So much of the thoughts of winter,
Somewhat of a tradition you may recall,
The cherished memories from gone by years,
Revealing the sameness of them all.

Submitted: Monday, January 15, 2007
Edited: Saturday, December 25, 2010
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  • Francesca Johnson (1/15/2007 5:06:00 PM)

    You've described some memories here, Joseph, of real snow, sledges (as we used to call them) , open fires and people chatting in front of them. We don't seem to get the snow much any more, and I don't know anyone who owns a sledge nowadays. Those open fires have mostly been replaced by radiators (more convenient and easy to use but, oh, so uninteresting) and people now sit and watch television (or, like me, sit at their pc) . So I found your poem refreshingly nostalgic. A great read.

    Love, Fran xx (Report) Reply

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