What Do You See?: Poems of Perception by William K. Leutz

Author:William K. Leutz
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hawkeye Publishers
Published: 2019-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

First Snowfall

2000

I woke last night to hear the hand of winter

scatter sleet across the window pane

as wind’s whine came whistling through the eaves.

In the morning, I found the years first snow

strewn wetly on the pasture and the barn.

The roan, the pinto, and the gray were pawing at this covering,

in hopes of finding, here and there,

a slender blade of breakfast to offset the cold.

As I left the house, their ears all raised

to hear my footsteps on the wooden porch,

and then, heads up, they all came trotting in,

fetlocks fringed with snow and nostrils steaming

from warm breath against the frigid air.

They came in hopes of grain, a flake of hay,

and then perhaps a pat upon the withers,

to warm them from their long cold night.

Although the dogs all romp upon the snow,

the horses seem to find it less appealing.

Of course the dogs all slept upon warm beds

within the shelter of the heated house,

while all night long the horses knew the storm

first hand. The barn might give some shelter from

the falling snow, or from the wind, but nothing

shielded them from the all pervading cold.

A cold that marks the ending of the year,

as every year must start in cold and end

in cold and only find its heat in middle age.

In this millennial year, the world

still watches as the seasons turn around the sun.

We watch to see new life in spring, as trees

fill up with leaves, and foals and calves

are dropped in pastures all around;

and as they grow, the summer’s days speed by

when fruits and berries ripen on the vine.

Fall comes, and harvest feeds the land before

the winter drives life back into the ground.

Today we feed the stock, and feed ourselves,

on all the produce of that passing year;

just as they did a thousand years ago.

Stepping back a thousand years a go

until the dawning of our race, the season’s

hold on us and on our lives remains unchanged

for all our vaunted age and its technology.

We grow within the confines of creation

and let its music carry us along,

but though we seek to find some moderation,

we cannot change the rhythm of its song

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