Snow Angel
The first snow of the season fell
and fell . . . and fell . . . and fell;
By morn it covered all the streets,
The lawns, the cars as well.
Grumbling, I donned coat, hat, and boots,
And dug the shovel out;
“Why me?” I muttered as I scooped
And threw the snow about.
My arms soon felt like two lead weights,
And, oh, my back did ache!
And yet the snow kept coming down;
Would this storm ever break?!
I stretched then noticed down the street
A girl of six or seven;
She looked just like an angel that
Had fallen straight from Heav’n.
Dressed all in white from head to toe,
Her muffler, hat and coat,
Against the background of the snow
She seemed almost to float.
Alone she stood while silent snowflakes
slowly circled 'round,
Tongue out to catch each frozen treat
Before it hit the ground.
She spread her arms, then leapt and twirled
To winter’s melody;
Her face was filled with purest joy
As she looked right at me.
And then she dropped into the snow,
Oh no! Was she all right?
I struggled through the slipp’ry stuff
Then halted at the sight.
She lay there, smiling, on her back,
Her limbs waved to and fro;
’Twas then I saw that she had made
An angel in the snow!
And in that moment my cold heart
Began to thaw and melt,
And I dropped down upon my back
And swung my limbs about.
She turned her head and smiled at me,
And I smiled back at her;
The happy tears that filled my eyes
Made her fade to a blur.
I blinked and when I looked again
The little girl was gone;
Yet I arose with lighter heart
Up from that snowy lawn.
Though not a word was spoken, she
Had touched my soul inside
And found that place where, deep within,
My inner child did hide.
Wrapped up in pain from hurts long past,
She’d lived in misery;
I had to find and thank this girl,
For she had set me free;
There was a house there and I knew
That that’s where she must be;
And through its windows I could see
A twinkling Christmas tree.
I knocked upon the wooden door,
Then waited patiently;
A woman came to open it--
She was quite elderly.
I asked about the little girl,
Perhaps ’twas her grandchild?
Oh no, she said, then handed me
A picture, as she smiled.
And it was her! The little girl
I’d been with in the snow!
And yet the picture seemed to have
Been taken long ago.
We called her Angel then, she said,
A gift from God above;
He loaned her to us for a while
To care for and to love.
She was a fragile child, so ill,
But how her eyes did glow!
She died some fifty years ago,
But oh she loved the snow!
She made some tea and sandwiches
And then she shared with me
All the cherished things within
A mother’s memory.
I rose then, hugged her tight, and left
As tears began to flow;
And as each tear dropped it became
Another flake of snow.
Had I but paused and looked around
Perhaps I might have seen
Her standing there upon the ground
Where snow angels had been.
Alone she stood while silent snow
Swirled softly ’round her face,
And as she smiled and disappeared
She glowed with love and grace.
Theme: Angels
By Linda Newman
© 2008 Linda Newman
(All rights reserved)
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