Tom Simard

Poetry, Music, and Prose

Continents of Design

Continents of Design
Snowflakes fell
the size of which
held continents
of design.

Roads traversed
so as not to encounter
those whose unlucky spins
put an end to the happy day
they were expecting.

Bails of hay on farm fields rolled.

Bleak whiteness obscured
one’s sense of place.

Posted in American Poetry, Writing

7 thoughts on “Continents of Design”

Clanmother on February 4, 2016 at 2:11 pm said:

Love the words “continents of design.”

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tomsimard on February 4, 2016 at 4:30 pm said:

Thanks.

I’ll tell you they were huge flakes.

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Smaktakula on February 9, 2016 at 4:31 pm said:

It would be neat to live in a place (briefly!) where heavy snowfall was an expected event. I lived in Western Washington where it does occasionally snow heavily, but not so you can count on it every year.

And also, apropos of nothing–with the 2016 Campaign Hoo-Hah getting into full swing, aren’t you glad to be back in the Land of the Free?

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- tomsimard on February 9, 2016 at 5:53 pm said:
  
  And the Tome of the Lathe….
  
  Love Bernie. A candidate I’d happily vote for. The Republicans strike me as being reptilian.
  
  Snow is a delight. Driving in it is horrid.
  
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smilingtoad on February 20, 2016 at 1:57 pm said:

Delightful, absolutely delightful. Living in Florida, I miss the snow and its silent mystery. Marvelous poem. All the best,

Autumn Jade

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- tomsimard on February 20, 2016 at 2:47 pm said:
  
  Thanks!
  
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- tomsimard on February 20, 2016 at 2:49 pm said:
  
  Silent mystery is a wonderful way of putting it. To my senses, there is something divine about it.
  
  Thanks! And to you as well.
  
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