Snow in the Suburbs by Thomas Hardy
Every branch big with it,
Bent every twig with it;
Every fork like a white web-foot;
Every street and pavement mute:
Some flakes have lost their way, and grope back upward, when
Meeting those meandering down they turn and descend again.
The palings are glued together like a wall,
And there is no waft of wind with the fleecy fall.
A sparrow enters the trees,
A snow-lump thrice his own slight size
Descends on him and showers his head and eyes,
And overturns him,
And near inurns him,
And lights on a nether twig, when its brush
Starts off a volley of other lodging lumps with a rush.
The steps are a blanched slope,
Up which, with feeble hope,
A black cat comes, wide-eyed and thin:
And we take him in.
Poem Attribution © Thomas Hardy, Snow in the Suburbs
Source Attribution https://favoritepoems.diehoren.com/2016/01/snow-in-suburbs.html
Painting Attribution © Alexander Trifonov, Winter Tilburg, 2021
Source Attribution https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Painting-Winter-Tilburg/324439/8754537/view
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