Thursday, February 16, 2006


Finally, finally, real snow like
when we were all kids and
had plaid, woolen grampas
with steel shovels, and they
talked about back when it
really snowed, and sometimes,
they smoked cigars and
carried small flasks in
their plaid, woolen pockets.

Back, now, from the morning walk with the dog, to visit Mother Lake. Air, choked with fine snow and a hatful of breeze, Nor'east, vis. on lake at about 100-150 yards, and what you can see -- not encouraging to an old sailor. Back in the warm, coffee mug in hand, my thoughts turn to those sailing the seas and those pointing their bows down the concrete trade routes -- have a care -- take a deep reef. Be safe.

- Ralph Murre


Anonymous said...

Isn't the snow wonderful?! And your poem makes it so much more so. Thanks!

Bruce Hodder said...

Fantastic little poem,Ralph,with great wisdom and your usual dry wit nestling in there.I'd much rather we were having a deep snow here instead of this indeterminate half-winter,half-spring weather that teases out my well-buried optimism and then freezes its a*s off!