Snow Song Poem by Smoky Hoss
Snow Song
January, mourning.
No sun. No warmth.
Only snow, falling slowly, as if
piano keys
being pressed, softly.
A song forms into clouds
and descends
as gently tumbling music,
gracefully covering all
with a pause, a touch, a hush.
Trees dare not move,
lest they lose their blanket
of pure comfort.
Birds remain still,
make nary a noise, lest they
miss the whisper-chorus,
drifting in from beyond.
I hold my breath, and listen...
to all of creation paying rapt attention
to nature's musical,
a moving piano like concerto
of gently falling snow
in serene pianissimo.
Smoky, I enjoyed this poem, the enchantment of it, once I got past the first two lines. Did you mean to write 'mourning' rather than morning? And the second line made me think more negative was coming—but no so. -Glen
Glen, yes. Even in mourning there is some beautiful 'music' to be discovered.
I fell under the spell of your Snow Song and summoned a million stars to shine on it and also faved it for my future delight
you know, no one who doesn't know you would ever expect such lyrical elegant poetry by someone named Smoky Hoss! ! ! but we are fortunate to know you and are never surprised by your talent
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/13/2026 7:01:21 PM # rel_20260811T123139Z_a98d49b
Only snow, falling slowly, as if piano keys being pressed, softly.----------this is powerful writing, my friend---Glen has the right word---enchanting---weaving a spell with words---heady stuff! !