There’s something in a Christmas snow
that lifts the heart.
The snows that fall on other days
don’t have the touch
of Christmas snows,
although the first few flakes
of Winter’s season race the blood
in most of us.
On other days, snow is snow
to plow and throw.
But Christmas snow?
There is magic by the shovelfull
to coax the timid into labor
against advice from those
who worry of a strain upon the heart.
Oh, strain it is, right enough,
but not the kind
that saps the strength and aches the back -
not Christmas snow.
Here’s the wonder of the ages
to catch and fling against the wind,
and catch it back on tongue and face.
The heart beats faster full and warm,
but not so much from overwork
as overjoy, while ‘Merry Christmas!’
sung across the restless drifts
echoes down the lane.