Winter in New England

when the atmosphere changes to glass  

and the air becomes so crisp and clean;

 

when flakes tumbling, twirling

pour out of a steel gray sky;

 

when the wind howls,

shaking frozen trees and silent houses;

 

when families light candles,

and welcome the forest into their homes

 

when children race to the snow

after getting the most wonderful telephone call from school;

calling out to their friends, dragging wooden sleds,

secretly forming and stashing snowballs to throw at siblings;

 

when the birds nestle snug

in the trees

and peep out from under sleepy eyes to watch

a blizzarding world;  

 

the earth smiles and says,

‘ah, it is finally

winter

in new england.’

 

This poem is about: 
My community

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