Recalling Snow in Oxford

‘A few light taps upon the pane
made him turn to the window.
It had begun to snow again.’
Joyce

Snow flows freely
onto the black
streets and slabs.

White whizzes
wistfully into winter’s
waiting wind.

Wet cherry blossoms
filter through the
pale, dull haze.

The old stone
bricks of St. Giles
damply wait

for the
rusting bell’s
trailing toll.

A nascent bloom
breathes the fragrance
of spring trailing

wet and wild
within the
sleet and soil.

Like rose petals,
we trust the world
swirling round

Banbury Road’s
long gaze through
bare trees.

Sitting in a room, 
I recall the wet white
wilting footprints.

We carry memories of serene
whispers within winter’s
tufted white.

by Peter Hurtubise

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