I was thinking about a comment that Fran, one of the bloggers whom I follow, made the other day about snow – that when it snows, the light reminds her of the colour on the inside of a mussel shell. True, that, I thought. So I wrote a poem about it, “The Colours of Cold”.
It’s been a long time since the words for a poem have come to me and stuck in my head until I wrote them down. Thanks for the inspiration, Fran.
Note on the form: Written in couplets (pairs of rhyming lines) with an end-rhyme scheme, and 5 syllables per line, in 5 stanzas of quatrains.
THE COLOURS OF COLD
Mornings are palest
shades of eau-de-
nil
Talcum-white snow puffs
on the window
sill
Cloud breaks show glimpses
of duck-egg-blue
sky
which fades to nacre
like a drawn-out
sigh
as the shell of the sphere
(a protective
curl)
renders the landscape
in mother-of-
pearl
Then that muted glow
meets the bone black
night
and so disappears
the marmoreal
light
And only the moon
rimmed in palest
gold
adds one more hue to
the colours of
cold
©Bear of Little Brain 2021
SEVEN CIRCUMSTANCES 
Altyd as iets vir my baie mooi is, raak ek bewoë. Mag ek asseblief herblog?
Maar natuurlik kan jy, Fran. Ek is bly jy dink dis mooi.
What a beautiful selection of descriptions!
Dis pragtig, en ek is bly dat ek jou begin volg het en sulke kosbaarhede kan lees.
Thank you, Anne. It’s a pretty part of the world where we live, an ideal subject for poems.