On the wind beyond the window,
snowflakes sideways, the street
streams with white waves, riffles

on gusts colliding with vehicles
to swirl like dust on a black
river of asphalt. I am no snow man

and imagine small covies of quail
before the shotgun, before
the bobcat, before taking flight.

Feathers fly with each collision,
gather and flee downstream
as if running for their lives.


5 responses to “ELKO SNOW

  1. John, there are covies of quail in Arizona and I had so much fun watching them. Excellent images.


    Liked by 1 person

  2. This is a great one! Love the correlation.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I fought loving snow for about 30 years when I moved from Vancouver Island to icy Ontario. But now I love the drama of it. A snowy winter is an opera diva or maybe even Ethel Merman. And I love this poem for the drama of the quail qualing.

    Liked by 1 person

    • You know how it goes, Susanne, some of us see things in terms of something else, similes, metaphors, analogies, and we can’t help it. So much fun to work them into a poem, add heart where perhaps is there is none.

      Liked by 1 person

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