The First Snow

Gently, beautifully, it falls

In delicate swirls, like powdered sugar,

Twisting and turning around the wind’s slender finger,

White ringlets framing

The dark, old brick.

Made grander by time, the edges darkened by the light

Of countless glowing candles,

Aged prestige lays upon its shoulders,

And crowned by the stormy silver sky,

The queen bears the first weak siege

Of starving, summer-sapped November

With cold, honorable dignity.

Roses gather along her brow,

Carved into stone, they are as strong as she,

And the date of her birth, the first year of her reign,

Proudly attests her eternal heart

And immortal soul.

For though a new century may pass,

Hundreds of years fade away,

And her walls may crumble, her turrets fall into piles of rubble,

Her wooden bones crumble to dust,

The land will still remain hallow with her touch,

Protected by the frost and first snowfall.

So, as many of you may have seen, heard, or are beginning to hear, the Northeast already got its first snowfall of the season! Though many of us may complain about the frozen rain, since it can actually be a bit dangerous, a lot of New Englanders secretly appreciate the beauty of the first snow. Which is how I was got my inspiration for this poem! I was passing by one of the buildings on my college's campus and simply noticed how pretty it looked in the snow. We have many old, gothic buildings here, and when it snows, everything looks magical. Though it is too soon to start singing Christmas carols (we haven't even gotten to Thanksgiving), I'm pretty pleased that I can somehow mark the first snowfall of the season.