The first snowfall always seems so magical to me. My first glimpse of glittering, white snowflakes brings an external burst of joy. Each tiny snowflake, from a distance, looks exactly the same. But up close, I am able to see each unique pattern these small wonders possess. They shimmer and reflect like tiny little diamonds underneath the glow of the street lamps. Floating ever so gently, down to the not-so-bare ground, a gentle breeze sends the snowflakes into a swirling dance before they resume their journey to the earth.
In the distance, I can hear the shrieks and laughter of small children as they relish in pure and innocent wonder, the joys of the first snowfall. I can only imagine them grabbing up handfuls of paper-light snow and throwing it into the air, sticking their warm little tongues out to catch the frostiness of the flakes. I glance to the left of me and notice a cat huddled in the corner of a dimly lit doorway covered in a thin blanket of crystal snow, shivering miserably and letting out pathetic meows as he waits to be let into the warmth of his home.
There is a cold kiss of wind against my flushed, red cheeks. And that chilly breeze sends a rushing sound through my bare, cherry-coloured ears. Tiny droplets of water, just moments ago were snowflakes, form on the base of my dark, auburn hair. I exhale sharply and watch as a brief mist forms from my warm breath, mixing with the frigid air. I hear the unmistakable piercing crunch of snow, as my boot hits the blanketed pavement. It is almost impossible to walk silently in the snow.
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I thoroughly enjoy the first snowfall. I stand outside and marvel at its beauty, as the earth is covered in the brightest, white blanket my eyes have ever perceived. I enjoy kicking up the lightness of the snow before it becomes heavy and hard with the burden of perpetual snowfall. I stand there and let the tiny, diamond like flakes cover me for just a moment, because I know that soon this mesmerizing snowfall will soon transform into a bitter, long, bone-chilling winter.
on The First Snowfall
Seeing the principal snow falling invokes in the dad, the "sweet hill in Coppery" where his little girl is covered while it likewise helps him to remember the "recuperating" forces of snow that covers everything just as sustaining the earth with an excellent white cover.
The Principal Snowfall by James Russell Lowell - Sonnets | poets.org.
~ Lowell's tone toward the start of the sonnet is contemplative, in light of the fact that the storyteller is respecting the magnificence of the snowfall, yet in addition recalling the demise of his girl, while toward the finish of the sonnet there is a tone of expectation and acknowledgment of the passing of his little girl.
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