First Snow

The first real snow of the year is always great - a soft, glimmering white landscape. It's quiet. It's still. A contrast to the buzzing summer life and the dark days of the fall. I think I've written at least six poems on winter, winter nights in particular. And only one on each of the other seasons. Maybe not because I love winter that much. Maybe it's just because I'm too busy with living in the moment during the rest of the year. But when you're snowed in and power outages happen frequently your thoughts tend to cram together until it gets too crowded in your head.

I haven't written any winter themed poems yet. But I have been out snapping some pictures.