|
Dirty Old Snow
by Bruce W Niedt
What are they doing here
in this week of robins and shirtsleeves?
Like guests from a prior party,
they dont know when to leave.
Banished to dark corners of yards,
edges of parking lots,
gray-white piles sit like wallflowers
in the new season.
They were the life of the party once
kids played king-of-the-world
on their temporary mountaintops.
Now they are shrunken to molehills,
peppered with soot, crusty with ice.
They dot the park like lonely old men,
watching new buds and birds suspiciously,
leering at passing girls in short spring skirts.
Dumbly they wait for their demise,
dinosaurs of a colder clime,
bleeding a little more, each April day.
03/18/2003 Posted on 03/18/2003
Copyright © 2026 Bruce W Niedt
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 03/19/03 at 05:16 PM Well done Mr. Bruce! Yeah, how does something, initially so beautifully white and clean end up so ugly and filthy??? |
| Posted by JD Clay on 03/22/03 at 09:54 PM This one reads like the memoirs of Jack Frost. Your metaphoric infusion is reminiscent of old man winter himself. Good stuff Bruce.
Peace... |
| Posted by Rusty C Arquette on 03/29/03 at 01:32 AM Image laden visions of winter passing - Being Floridian by birth I can say I enjoyed it from afar! - Any scheme to the lines per stanza? - RCat |
|
