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.


  • Author: Summersounds68 (Offline Offline)
  • Published: January 24th, 2017 01:01
  • Comment from author about the poem: I lived in Alaska for thirty--two years and have never smelled snow.
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 54

To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.