That’s my interpretation of the basic meaning in a poem from Tracy Herd via Poetry Daily:
was such a plump, bountiful
landscape of snow, more
than I’d ever dared wish for.
That was back when we had
proper winters, long ago,
when lawns and driveways
vanished: there were
no boundaries. Fences, walls,
gardens and homes dropped off
the edge of the world.
There was a muffled
silence each night when
darkness married with snow
to wake me from dreams
that began and ended
with the snow. I was hidden
from view behind a tree
whose branches were
perilously bent and laden
with snow, watching
a dark figure disappear;
then I would slip out fearlessly,
sure-footed and fleet,
with my magnifying glass
and pocket torch to follow
the tracks that led off as far
as a child’s eye could see,
and then a little further.
Not in This World
Bloodaxe Books / Dufour Editions
Reached into the upper 80’s today in Southern California. Hotter tomorrow. We have not had a “proper winter” yet and it seems that spring is on the way out already here in early April.
Kit Stolz 