Snowflakes ride my eyelashes playfully,
Their kin now drifting on the forest floor;
My path, once clear, no longer there to see
And I from home, yet still six miles or more;
Shaking snowcakes off my boots, I trundle on,
I must return before the fall of night,
The trail now blurred, in darkness will be gone,
And waxing cold will follow waning light.
She’ll be surprised to see me, this I’m sure;
I did not tell her I would leave today,
I trust she waits beside the hearth’s warm lure,
Dreaming sweet reunion, the coming day;
Then, home at dusk; the last mile took the most;
The windows dark, a strange horse at the post.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.