A Scent Of Snow Poem by Sandra Fowler
A Scent Of Snow
The moon is lemon light, November cold.
The wind is blowing colors all apart.
Old leaves are writing their last signature
Upon the dimming windows of the world.
Time is a gray bird grazing fingertips.
It flies so far the mind cannot forge chains.
One feather falls like solace on bare hands,
An autumn gesture, yet how comforting!
A scent of snow is fragrant on the air.
Deep hollows will be filled with small white stars.
The very thought of that is beautiful,
A lunar landscape fit for fairy tales.
Our night is falling in the window glass,
Subtle as shadows, all its secrets kept.
You paint me quatrains for a souvenir,
Verses become my early Christmas gift.
2008, Sandra Fowler
Trademark Sandra; an enchanting flowing piece jam-packed with unique similes and analogies, and oh so true..... you make us see the world differently, and your poetry is a gift to your friends. t x
Sandra, So touching from the heart of a poet....your voice sings a melody that touches me deeply. Ah!
Wonderful poem, par excellence. The exquisite imagery and inimitable phrasing make this poem so very dear to me. Thank You, Sandra
Sandra, you have put the moon at the top of this poem. A great poem Sandra dear... magnificent
‘…You paint me quatrains for a souvenir, /Verses become my early Christmas gift.’ I’ve souvenired-in your picturesque metaphor bounty and envy your poetic-psychic-eyes….lolol… 10+ Ms. Nivedita UK
Exquisite and uplifting - the color chosen 'lemon light' so cold I can feel it...another masterpiece Sandra
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/22/2025 5:58:54 PM # 1.0.0
MY DEAR SANDRA FOWLER, AN EXCELLENT POEM. Our night is falling in the window glass, Subtle as shadows, all its secrets kept. You paint me quatrains for a souvenir, Verses become my early Christmas gift LOVE WILFRED JOHN