The first snow falling
excites me most of all.
Flakes twirl like doilies
spreading a downy blanket
across the brittle grass.
"Ma Ledford is dusting
her featherbed," Mama said
when I was a child
begging to go outside
and play in the snow.
Donning layers of clothing,
big brother Harold and I rolled
huge balls of snow and stacked
them to make a jolly snowman.
Rover yelped and stamped
paw prints on the crystalline carpet.
Sister Barbara brought her red scarf,
Daddy shared his black hat
for the fat man to wear,
Mama stuck a carrot in the snowman's nose,
my feet froze in the boots.
I looted Mama's box of buttons
and found two big ones that
she cut from Granddaddy's worn-out coat,
and gave the snowman his eyes.
Mama grabbed a dishpan,
scooped up fresh-pure powder,
I did a happy dance
and our family savored
the delicious snow cream.
As a child, I jumped and screamed
when ole' man winter handed
out his poke of treats,
and created a magical wonderland.
--Brenda Kay Ledford
Poke: A mountain term for a bag.
I hope all my blogger friends will have a blessed Thanksgiving and very happy holiday.
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