Poetry

Snow is in the air.

I can smell snow.

No you can’t.

Yes I can.

Pause and take a moment breathe it in.

It’s not there.

It is in the air, all around, crisp nostrils soak up

The ground, the ice, atmospherically shivers down the

The throat, onto the Vertebrae. Raise the shoulders

Lift the heart, eyes blink, clear, inhale

Exhale, slow and deep. It is coming.

No it isn’t

Yes it is. Nature is showing.

No it isn’t!

cropped-4d-logo-sin-border-jan-2017.pngCreative Writing, Poetry, with Julie Spencer 4D, January 2018

My parents often used to say, ‘Snow is coming, I can smell it.’ We as children would laugh. ‘How do you know that?’ But as time grows old, I do believe I have learned the intuitive sense in believing when it is coming. I may often get it wrong, but I am still open to learning and having fun with the senses.

 

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