...dark furrow lines grid the snow, punctuated by orange abacus beads of pumpkins - now the crows own the field...
John GeddesMots clés poetry nature reflection snow pumpkins field crows furrow-lines grid orange-abacus
I don't really like driving in the snow. There's something about the motion of the falling snowflakes that hurts my eyes, throws my sense of balance all to hell. It's like tumbling into a field of stars.
Neil GaimanMots clés stars snow sandman neil-gaiman worlds-end
You wake up on a winter morning and pull up the shade, and what lay there the evening before is no longer there--the sodden gray yard, the dog droppings, the tire tracks in the frozen mud, the broken lawn chair you forgot to take in last fall. All this has disappeared overnight, and what you look out on is not the snow of Narnia but the snow of home, which is no less shimmering and white as it falls. The earth is covered with it, and it is falling still in silence so deep that you can hear its silence. It is snow to be shoveled, to make driving even worse than usual, snow to be joked about and cursed at, but unless the child in you is entirely dead, it is snow, too, that can make the heart beat faster when it catches you by surprise that way, before your defenses are up. It is snow that can awaken memories of things more wonderful than anything you ever knew or dreamed.
Frederick BuechnerMots clés snow
...winter crescent resting in the high pine bough - you fly through the woods like a lone snow bird...
John GeddesMots clés love poetry moon winter snow bird pines
you cross the field in the snow leaving tracks in perfect whiteness ...disturbing my placid universe...marking the landscape within me ...
John GeddesMots clés poetry world universe perfection snow landscape disturbing whiteness peaceful placid
The dark, twisting clouds that had settled over Vendona’s streets seemed to open up and glide past the winking moon. The wind moaned slowly as it died while the trees began dancing with a melody only known to nature. The city became alive, and time raced forward as the sky warmed slightly. It was no longer snowing.
Shannon A. ThompsonI leaned out one last time and caught a snowflake on my tongue. They tasted so good, so pure and so divine, like nothing I had ever tasted from the sky. It was as if happiness spread through your body with the cold, but then disappeared and brought depression, all in less then two seconds. It was unbelievable, and yet, addicting.
Shannon A. ThompsonMots clés nature snow snowflakes
No, I'm from the South, remember? We get snow when we've done something to upset God, which we don't do very often.
Autumn JordonIn January in Northern Russia, everything vanishes beneath a deep blanket of whiteness. Rivers, fields, trees, roads, and houses disappear, and the landscape becomes a white sea of mounds and hollows. On days when the sky is gray, it is hard to see where earth merges with air. On brilliant days when the sky is a rich blue, the sunlight is blinding, as if millions of diamonds were scattered on the snow, refracting light. In Catherine's time, the log roads of summer were covered with a smooth coating of snow and ice that enabled the sledges to glide smoothly at startling speeds; on some days, her procession covered a hundred miles.
Robert K. MassieMots clés winter snow russia ice
The City is free of sin
The snow has given it absolution
A man who slips
A horse that falls
Oh no, the city is in a nightgown
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