As the snowfall curves the shape
of our landscape,
and the flakes fall lightly,
masking the sand and salt,
a young man’s fancy turns to
lights and gaiety,
an old man’s turns
to love.

For in this season
I think of other snows
and other Christmases.
And I know how this
new blanket of snow
is like the blanket
of love
we share
each night.

Quiet it is.
Always changing.
Not revealing what
lies beneath,
the blanket of love
swaddles us,
a comfort now and
forever.

Doug Pearson has lived in Eau Claire since the early 1960s. Previously, he has written poetry for friends and family, and hopes to broaden his audience.