I sit by my window a cup in a hand
by Lynda Jean Bryant
Watching the snow fall gently over the land.
The holly tree red berries show in the morning light.
While ice sickles glitter and give us such delight.
From time to time, the wind twirls the flakes around,
Similar to children playing and rolling on the ground.
Skaters begin to test the thickness of the ice.
Friends greet each other and lovers wink twice.
Snow people spring up as if they were asleep in the yard.
While insiders mail bills, letters and cards.
Each outsider takes a turn on a sled or two.
Then a passerby shouts, "Who threw that snowball - you?"
There is a quiet moment, then laugher and shouts.
No one was hurt during the winter roustabout.
When the evening falls everyone is tired and quiet.
I watch the moonlight dance gracefully across it.