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A Poem

Snow is the quiet one.

You see it fall

And hear the wetness

of the streets.

But snow itself

Is silence.

What was once all colors

Is now frosted with white.

Transformed into a fantasy vision.

Powdered sugar from heaven.

All creatures fall silent

When it snows.

They huddle into their homes

To stay warm and sleep.

Including us.

The smell of wetness

And the occasional fire place

Fills the air.

A primal feeling of comfort

Goes through me.

I love to sit outside

And watch my familiar surroundings

Become so much more.

Just a dusting today

But it's enough for me.

Hilary Miminguaquay
Hilary Miminguaquay

I live in Denver, CO and married to the most amazing woman of my dreams. I work in health care, sing with the Denver Women's Chorus and am an improvisation actor. I love books, music, needlework crafts, cooking, walks and much more.

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