lillian the home poet

Protected life within glass sphere,
clear at times.
Watching my outside world
family and friends doing everyday things.
Hearing laughter, secrets,
television sitcoms and news.
Watching mealtimes, relaxation,
rushings to get out the door.

On display annually,
unwrapped with holiday treasures.
Seasonal awakenings,
year after year.
Douglas, Fraser or Balsam fir
garner most attention.
Delicious scent, sparkling lights.
I sit unobtrusively on the coffee table.

Many times a day
my life tips upside down,
sometimes by gentle hands.
Young children’s eyes
watch my snow fly
as if magic lives within my sphere.
Flakes so gentle,
softly floating all around.

Some hands roughly shake me.
Up and down, sideways back and forth,
and then up and down again.
Blizzard-like conditions their aim.
Snow flies about at a quicker pace,
for a moment view obscured.
Snowflakes however, remain same sized,
soft in weight as they whirl about.

I treasure the holiday season,
my opportunity to offer a magical world.
Obliging those who want to see clearly.
Happily providing a different view,
for those who want a whirling blizzard,
but never cold, never damaging.
Most treasured of all?
Being held in all those loving hands.

Written for dVerse Poets Pub, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Kim is hosting and asks us “to write about snow as you see, feel or imagine it, in any form you wish.”

Image from Bing Create.