White Fields

Photo courtesy of PublicDomainPictures.net

White Fields

In the wintertime we go
Walking in the fields of snow,
Where there is no grass at all,
Where the top of every wall,

Every fence and every tree,
Is as white as white can be.
Pointing out the way we came,
Every one of them the same.

All across the fields there be
Prints in silver filigree,
And our mothers always know,
By the footprints in the snow,
Where it is the children go.

~ James Stephens

I thought I'd share this one today in honor of the snowflakes that were falling here earlier.  (I'm still waiting for more than half an inch of snow on our ground, however.)  I especially like the line in Stephens's third stanza about the "prints in silver filigree". :)