****** whiteness blankets terrestrial realm
bajillion snowflakes tumble out of sky
atavistic fascination awakened
agog at ice crystals stinging each eye
while I strike open mouthed stance
relishing tasting frozen water molecules.

No matter yours truly witnessed
countless winter wonderlands
since completing lxiii orbitz round the sun,
the first major seasonal substantial accumulation
excites the little boy inside me.

Additionally, I feel truly humbled and enamored
when Mother Nature
singly and/or nsync with old man winter,
whether she (former)
looses propensity to wreak havoc
(think climatological, geological,
meteorological, et cetera phenomena)
or latter trumpets weather,
whereby landscape magically transformed
into blinding brilliance,
I tip hat to personification of winter
and fondly think back
remembering '96 storm of the century.

At that time January 1996
me and the missus timesharing
seven nights and six days holed up
along Shawnee on the Delaware
(a honeymoon gift courtesy my parents)
spending disproportionate amount of time
frolicking under warm blankets
ardently, fervently, naturally...
both of us experiencing
devilish, feverish, impish,
loutish (more so me)... concupiscence
striving to beget offspring, yet unsuccessful
conceiving Blizzard Baby.

Now far beyond prime procreative age,
(though I wistfully envisage
begetting another progeny -
simultaneously stretching credulity
to breaking point)
all things considered
exhaustion would peter out
after capitulation of divining rod
necessitating lifetime to recoup energy.

Bound within figurative four walls
of Schwenksville, Pennsylvania domicile
courtesy appreciable snowfall,
I direct energy crafting poem.

Yours truly will actually
refrain comestibles despite feeling hungry -
lest metabolism to digest food
decreases potential alertness,
and full belly finds me
ready able and willing
to doze immediately into deep slumber.

Hungry stomach in tandem
with eventful weather
sends surge of giddiness
coursing thru body electric
crackling, popping, and snapping
(while O Captain My Captain)
came to witty man (me) suddenly
enervating with poignant pregnant expectancy
papa pondering his empty nest syndrome
analogously attempting to offset void

coaxing reasonable rhyme into existence
unsure how literary endeavor
(mine) will thrive
amidst well suited
panoply of prolific writers,
whose unseen fingers
hop lightly and gracefully
across qwerty computer keyboard
akin to heavy armed soldiers
with fearlessness and deliberation
heading off to war to acquire poetic license.

Meanwhile chafed knuckles
of one garden variety primate
previously scraping along tundra
(methinks I espy frozen Mastodon)
before said twenty first century caveman
learned to stand *****
endeavors to strike letter combinations
eliciting, facilitating, and generating
enticing curb appeal.