Footprints in the Snow
Now the hounds of winter come, shake the trees
with frosty breath, blow sharp cold weather blues
across the fallow fields, the wings of crow
write black legends, to say below the freeze.
No map is needed, no map, and no news
no travelers, merely footprints in the snow
left by whom? And when? Not feathered friend. Strange
to see bold tracks in white, some silent clues
of presence, of life, of some thing to show
I’m not alone. Now more snow, footprints change–
For the dVerse prompt using winter song titles, I attempted a curtal sonnet, which was Paul Brookes’ challenge form last week that I’m just getting to. It’s a form invented by Gerard Manley Hopkins. I don’t have the meter right.
The painting goes well with this poem! Your words paint the picture…you captured the ‘blue’, frost and cold. I love the ending!!! (You help us imagine our own footprints…and although the snow covers them up again, it still matters that we have been there.)
Thank you very much, Linda. I’m so pleased my words resonated with you, and I appreciate your close reading.
A wonderful composition of the poem and the painting, and also very peaceful. Best wishes, Michael
Thank you very much, Michael!
That’s some stark imagery… and very well written. ‘The wings of crow write black legends,’ is an epic line. It set a whole new fantastical tone to the poem, for me. ‘Now more snow, footprints change–
and go.’ Lovely last lines.
Thank you so much, Tanmay! I appreciate your thoughtful comment.
I hadn’t this Monet painting before; I like it very much. I, too, appreciate your poem’s final lines. In real life, I’m always disappointed by footprints in the snow. I wish the smooth, unbroken snow would just stay as it is.
Thank you, Liz,
I like the smooth, unbroken snow–like the way it is early in the morning. But–I kind of like the prints left by animals.
You’re welcome, Merril.
All of this is an excellent metaphor for isolation.
Thank you so much, Ken.
Love the image and use of the song titles here. I like the repetition of the word “no” and then the shift to the positive at the end…the footprints come and go….and “I’m not alone”.
Thank you very much, Lillian. I enjoyed the prompt. 😊
You paint the bleakness and severity of winter beautifully, Merril. 💙
Thank you very much, Punam! 💙
My pleasure. 😊
When I lived in Northern Manitoba is an isolated mining town growing up, we lived with snow most of the year. Snow would come in September. One year we had a huge snowstorm the last week of June. While I live in a milder climate now, there is a longing to feel the frigid cold, the hounds of winter, and walk in a snowfall that would cover my footsteps even as I moved a step further along. I love your thought that we are not alone.
I don’t have that love of cold–and especially not in June! I like one snowfall a year, if we don’t have to go anywhere. 🙂
This is absolutely stellar writing, Merril! I especially admire; “the wings of crow write black legends, to say below the freeze.” ❤❤
Thank you very much, Sanaa! 💙
The crows stole the show but I like it from start to finish and the way those footprints could be taken literally, bringing in a mystery or metaphorically. In that sense, it made me think of the way our lives can easily change with the wind.
There are always those who travel in winter leaving those footprints
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Yes, thank you. And Robert Frost.🙂
That’s exactly the feeling of a silent world after a snowfall. (K)
Thank you very much, Kerfe. It’s a special time.
I didn’t know that about the great poet. But, whatever the metre, you have conveyed the post snowfall mysterious mood so well
Thank you very much, Derrick.
Shared this on Facebook, Merril!
Thank you very much, Marian!
“Silent clues of presence of life” Breathtaking dear Merril!
Aww–thank you so much, Rene! 💙
Meter Schmeter! I enjoyed this for what it was 🙂
Thank you. Your comment made me laugh. 😄
Intriguing, Merril! Thank you!
Dale is so funny. Meter Schmeter!
Thank you, Resa. 😄
Thanks for sharing.
You are welcome.