After the snow storm, another warm spell.
····with the evergreen’s snow
The clouds were low in the valleys throughout the day. Driving to the south I drive over a mountain ridge. The evergreens were touched with a frosting of snow and the birches were radiant.
····day of the year—even I can touch
I wonder what the new year promises? I have some poetry to finish and maybe a novel. Every year I think I’ll work on my novel, but I never do. The evening is stark, blacks and whites, the road and the snow, the trees and mists, but joyful.
Though there’s not much for me in New Year’s, “Auld Lang Syne” chokes me up. In a strange way I’m a depression era baby, raised by WWII parents. I associate New Years with big band music, which I love, Bob Hope, Bing Crosby (never Frank Sinatra—who does absolutely nothing for me), Abbott & Costello, etc.. My family stories are of the first automobiles, the first telephones, rail travel, and one room schoolhouses. I occasionally use expressions, like “Sally off the pickleboat”, that haven’t been current for half a century or more. So when New Years comes around I’m nostalgic for the 40’s & the movie ‘White Christmas’.
55: December 25th 2015 | bottlecap