Tag Archives: Nature

NPM ’11: Day 6 – The Snow-Storm (Post #7)


In the spirit of weird April weather, here’s Ralph Waldo Emerson’s The Snow-Storm:

Photo credit: Arlene Richards © 2006

Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o’er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
Hides hills and woods, the river and the heaven,
And veils the farmhouse at the garden’s end.
The steed and traveler stopped, the courier’s feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm.

Come see the north wind’s masonry
Out of an unseen quarry evermore
Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
Curves his white bastions with projected roof
Round every windward stake, or tree, or door.
Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work
So fanciful, so savage, nought cares he
For number or proportion. Mockingly,
On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths;
A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn;
Fills up the farmer’s lane from wall to wall,
Maugre the farmer’s sighs; and, at the gate,
A tapering turret overtops the work.
And when his hours are numbered, and the world
Is all his own, retiring, as he were not,
Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art
To mimic in slow structure, stone by stone,
Built in an age, the mad wind’s night-work,
The frolic architecture of the snow.


NPM ’11: Day 3 – Rainy-Day Haiku (Post #4)



Crystal haven stands
Abandoned by its maker
Weighted tears consume


Step back now, O veil!
Make known your luminous light,
Your black, freckled sky.


Freedom flies above,
Flirting fiercely with the earth
But staying distant.


[Written on April 3, 2011]



Was going through some of my old poems, and I came across one that I wrote several months ago for a poetry class. I have mixed feelings about it…still feel like it needs some work, but I thought it was appropriate because–as all Seattleites can attest to–it’s been raining like crazy around here lately. I titled this one Bound.

Morning welcomes another gray sky,
Dark and thick
Like the floor of a murky lake
Whose true bottom the eye cannot see.

The drizzling rain is relentless,
Constantly falling upon the wet ground
But in a manner that is gentle,
Gentle and steady like the sinister whispers
That cloud my conscience.