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Thousand Mountain Twilight Snow

To whom only the shadow goes?

By Goli ShaniPublished 2 years ago 2 min read
Thousand Mountain Twilight Snow
Photo by Todd Diemer on Unsplash

When people are asleep and the snow starts to fly.

Goose feather-like snowflakes fell on the dark city, the

silent, constantly falling, loosely laying

The last sound of the cars in the thirsty city was silenced.

The faint clamor of the city is also suffocated.

It drifts lazily, it keeps on falling.

It sifted silently, covering the road and the roof.

It smoothes out the unevenness and hides all differences.

It gently flew into the corners and filled the crevices.

It snowed all night, until the light snow

loosely and softly accumulated to a depth of seven inches.

At this point the clouds flew away, revealing a frosty sky.

Everyone woke up extraordinarily early today, as this winter morning

The light was unusually bright, and the strange light did not come from the sky.

The eyes were amazed and dazzled by the white color.

The ears listened to the solemnity of the air, and

The ear listens to the solemnity of the air and hears not the sound of footsteps or the noise of wheels.

The sound of busy morning hawking is also rare.

I could hear the children going to school calling.

They were playing with snowballs, despite their frozen hands.

They were playing with snowballs and tasting the crystallized "manna" with their tongues.

They play and cheer in the knee-deep piles of snow.

and peering upwards at the wonders of the jonquil.

"Oh! Look at the trees!" They shouted, "Look at the trees!"

A few lightly laden wagons stumble along the white road.

A few lightly laden carriages pulled along the white road, stumbling and squeaking.

The group of country people who had come into town had already scattered in all directions.

At that moment a sun with a pale face

hung by the dome of St. Paul's Church, shining down into the world

The sun, which was pale in the face, was shining downward, waking up the rush of the day.

Every house opened its doors and began to clean the snow, and

Countless gray people in groups

trampling out the brown paths to their respective labors.

Even if they got a moment of relief and

forgetting their worries for a moment, and leaving their daily words unspoken, the

The daily thoughts of toil and pain have fallen asleep, -

In the face of the delightful beauty, they break the magic.

surreal poetry

About the Creator

Goli Shani

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Comments (1)

  • Kylara2 years ago

    This makes me want winter to arrive! Great work.

Goli ShaniWritten by Goli Shani

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