I cannot smell snow,
it\'s all around me,
blowing in my face,
making my parka damp,
crunching through the
drifts of miniature avalanches
with my combat bunny boots,
feeling like big foot of the north,
mighty and elusive trail maker
of virgin snow.
I cannot smell snow,
as my dog returns from an
unleashed run through the woods,
shaking off the snow from his
hair all over me adding an
additional layer of the wet powder,
testing my insulated Eddie Bauer
snow pants for extreme conditions,
appearing as a five-star rating in
their winter catalog.
I cannot smell snow,
remnants of winter are barely seen
as the season is nearing its end,
white patches scattered randomly
among the promise of spring grass,
tulips poke their heads through
to catch the warmth of the sun among
the thin layer of winter\'s blanket,
soon to melt and leave room for
a verdant cover.