By Linda Julian Rutherford Watching snowflakes falling down Drifting softly to the ground Now, it is starting to pile Bringing to my face a smile We love the changing of the seasons Which is one of many reasons Why we choose to live here now The where, the when and also how This is the life that we sought Drinking a nice beverage, hot On the fire, one more log Digging pathways for the dog The weather person on TV Getting hopes up, for those who ski Says further storms, on the way, Might snow you in another day Closing down a major highway There is no alternate byway Do not take a country back road GPS is wrong what it showed I’m tired of this epic snow Another storm, time to blow Shoveling it above my head More piling up, makes me dread As it’s getting deeper still Making mountains from a hill There is nowhere, to put more Oh, my muscles, they are sore When the snow plow leaves a berm Making soft snow very firm Now it is “Sierra Cement” Another natural event Mother Nature’s still in charge Bringing in these storms so large To us she is trying to show Something that we all must know It’s a Winter wonderland Truly now, isn’t it grand? Soon it will all disappear Looking forward to next year About this poem: Shoveling snow is a tedious, trying task. But, as we see above, it can serve as an excellent stimulant for a reverie cast in heptameter, a verse where all lines contain seven metrical feet (syllables). About this poet: The author is a resident of Graeagle who has a knack for weathering a winter of "epic storms".Watching snowflakes falling down
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