Sonnet #1

Sudden chill blows from the North like a gasp, Blowing ghosts inside on this eve of fright. Warmth of large hand is safe for child to grasp Knowing that come morning all will be white. Heaven’s dandruff falls as does volcanic Ash, Pompeii thoughts overrun by alpine Dreams, pensive of chalets and hearths of brick. What more to love than winter’s charm so fine? Earthenware filled to the brim, steaming hot For breath so cold and to warm delicate Fingers. Damp hats hang over heaters, caught Between gloves and socks. The snow sticks, I bet. Watch your tongue! Frosted glass seems edible. The first snow always looks incredible.