New England's Glory
Winter's blanket slowly forms outside our window,
covering the final remnants of the green hidden beneath.
Drawing back the drapes to reveal
an ever widening stage,
my eyes turn to watch the last brave squirrels
prepared with acorns for their winter feasts.
Fire crackles and burns upon our hearth,
toasting our bodies like a summer sun.
As a winter chill swirls outside,/
I search the tree tops,
my eyes seeking birds' nests
once filled with chirping new life.
I notice once again the barrenness,
the stark nature
of what remains among the once
colorfully laden branches.
As more snow gathers on the wings of trees,
my mind conjures up images of figures
only I can see.
There are castles, snow geese, and white-gowned fairies
dancing among the trees.
Ah, there's the Snow Queen
greeting her subjects.
My husband stands behind me and I ask him
what he sees outside our window.
We make a game of it,
each searching the fallen snow
for imaginary characters,
dancing and parading to the song of winter.
This is New England,
where God provides us with ever changing scenery.
each season promising a distinct yet inspiring painting
More About New England's Glory
"I wrote New England’s Glory on January 21, 2013, as snow swirled outside our New England home. Soon my husband and I will leave New England to spend the remaining days of winter in Florida. Although Florida’s warmth and the appeal of ocean at our door will provide another inspiring vista, occasionally I will re-read this poem, reminding me of the beauty." - Anne Drover