Hidden By Snow

January has more days than any other month
Which you would never know

By marking a calendar with a big, black pen
For the days are not measured by passage of time
But rather by the world-weary turning of wheels in your soul
Down a long, sheer road that is hidden by snow
(you roll and you roll)
And the glare blinds you to the world moving by
You only feel the crunch of it
Or the blank thwump-thump of it
Each revolution pulling you further into the white


There are other sounds

Marking passage and chill

Arid gusts, ruthless and brute

Whistling through leafless branches

(that are so frigid they are mute)

Content to let the wind speak for them

As it wills

Or a far away bird’s cry

A cold, solitary blast

That hangs frozen with the rest

All of it so hard

(water, wastes, wilderness)

You can’t scratch out the translation

As crisp noise enters your ear


January holds extra days, hidden by snow

Which you would never know

Because they are stupid and dull
Blocks of ice so opaque

They lack the awareness

Or the compassion

Or the simple decency

To thaw in the presence of our heat


Jeff Jenkins

“Solar” by Grandson Josiah (mixed media – popsicle sticks and masking tapes)


About scribblerjeff

wordswurdswirds is the first-time ever blog on words, language, and the culture they invoke, through the eyes, mind, and keyboard of Jeff Jenkins. Jeff is a Christian/outlaw, husband, father, reader, writer, theologian, philosopher, and pre-apocalyptic, pop-culture prophet of the new media, which is the same as the old media. There is nothing new under the Sun. When I am not writing this blog, I am selling commercial janitorial services, though in my mind, I am already at the California Coast with my family and friends. Word! View all posts by scribblerjeff

2 responses to “Hidden By Snow

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