"mews" poems - Hello Poetry

Through the miracle of meteorology, up high - little by little parts of me was made, without form within a clouds middle, and eventually, formed in unique designs, lighter than feathers, temperature and water work together to produce, a period of weather. When shapes, never repeated - but in approximation, begin to fall, as snow, feasibly forecasted, sometimes not so, down on to the surface below. And so as blanket laid, across town and countryside, fields and city mews, changing the familiar, smoothing contours, into new landscape views. The material soft, white glistening snow so miraculously delivered, at earliest opportunity is introduced to excited shouts, laughter, and shivers. Fittingly gathered by adult and children's hand, with the goal - to build a man. midst joyful sounds, travellers moans and snowball fights, the creators plan, By rolled ball pile and heaped snow I was born, created by many in several places, some small and really, lovingly made. Others large with various, curious, hats and faces. All - to stand appreciatively of of the makers time, to create me and proudly put on show. Winter feeds our lifetime span with cold wind, colder nights and, temperatures low, we stand as white statuary, where children play, soon - will come the expected day a thaw, will take our sustainability of cool, and so little by little I, and others go away, with saddened countenance creators watch as we bend, wither and slouch, stoically accepting this is, as is. Snowy days will return, snowmen too, I can vouch. It’s a happy sadness for snowman builders and snowmen too, who together wait in anticipation for fun and creativity, the joyful side of snowy weather. From a Snowman Michael C Crowder 23rd January 2019

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Jan 25, 2019

Jan 25, 2019 at 5:09 AM UTC

michael-c-crowder

From A Snowman

Through the miracle of meteorology, up high - little by little parts of me was made, without form within a clouds middle, and eventually, formed in unique designs, lighter than feathers, temperature and water work together to produce, a period of weather. When shapes, never repeated - but in approximation, begin to fall, as snow, feasibly forecasted, sometimes not so, down on to the surface below. And so as blanket laid, across town and countryside, fields and city mews, changing the familiar, smoothing contours, into new landscape views. The material soft, white glistening snow so miraculously delivered, at earliest opportunity is introduced to excited shouts, laughter, and shivers. Fittingly gathered by adult and children's hand, with the goal - to build a man. midst joyful sounds, travellers moans and snowball fights, the creators plan, By rolled ball pile and heaped snow I was born, created by many in several places, some small and really, lovingly made. Others large with various, curious, hats and faces. All - to stand appreciatively of of the makers time, to create me and proudly put on show. Winter feeds our lifetime span with cold wind, colder nights and, temperatures low, we stand as white statuary, where children play, soon - will come the expected day a thaw, will take our sustainability of cool, and so little by little I, and others go away, with saddened countenance creators watch as we bend, wither and slouch, stoically accepting this is, as is. Snowy days will return, snowmen too, I can vouch. It’s a happy sadness for snowman builders and snowmen too, who together wait in anticipation for fun and creativity, the joyful side of snowy weather. From a Snowman Michael C Crowder 23rd January 2019