Winter Meditations
By Jamie Rider
It snows here from time to time,
not the kind of snow that makes
a big deal of itself, but taps lightly
on your shoulder reminding you
it’s still winter and you need a scarf.
The landscape’s monochromatic,
panels of concrete dusted white,
frost reaching for the edges of
the window with ardent hands
missing the comfort of gloves.
Snow lying in blankets, the distinct
crunch absent as quick steps are taken,
silent as the stars overhead looking down
from a dark winter palace constructed
by a universe with no observable edge.
Colors fade out and warm glows
dissipate as cold distance closes in.
Scarves forgotten on the hook behind
the door along with thoughts of Spring,
more than cold but less than freezing.
not the kind of snow that makes
a big deal of itself, but taps lightly
on your shoulder reminding you
it’s still winter and you need a scarf.
The landscape’s monochromatic,
panels of concrete dusted white,
frost reaching for the edges of
the window with ardent hands
missing the comfort of gloves.
Snow lying in blankets, the distinct
crunch absent as quick steps are taken,
silent as the stars overhead looking down
from a dark winter palace constructed
by a universe with no observable edge.
Colors fade out and warm glows
dissipate as cold distance closes in.
Scarves forgotten on the hook behind
the door along with thoughts of Spring,
more than cold but less than freezing.
About the Author
Hi, my name is Jamie Rider. I am a senior majoring in Journalism at Cal U. I am the entertainment editor of the college newspaper and some of my hobbies include collecting/brewing different types of tea as well as people watching.