The Snow Storm
When the winter season rolls around,
by Joseph T. Renaldi
And the town lay under a covering of snow,
With high drifts at every corner,
And the temperature approaching five below,
I sit in the warmth of my cozy house
With its fireplace's ruddy glow.
My thoughts taking me back
To the winter days of long ago.
A snowstorm is raging into the night,
Rapping at the windows and howling
In the chimney and whining in the woods,
Quivering the house without fading.
I listened to the wailing wind above the roof,
The eerie sound of the branches of the oak tree
Flapping against the house grow louder,
And the growling wind setting the shingles free.
I envision looking up and down the street
In which not another person could be seen.
The silence of the night overwhelmed the town,
And the height of the snow dominated the scene.
The moon cast a brilliant beam upon the white mass,
And the frigid air was transparent to light.
Clumps of shrubbery cast dark shadows on the snow,
And rays from the windows made the landscape bright.
With the ceasing of the raging snowstorm,
And the fast moving clouds still gray,
My heart turns to the white landscape
And the meandering road that coaxes me away
Across the bridge to yesterday,
Through years of drifting snow.
I stroll up the familiar road -
The road to long ago.