Scribbled in the Snow

· by · in dVerse, glosa, poetry, the aged librarian. ·

It shines in the garden,
in the white foliage of the chestnut tree,
in the brim of my father’s hat
as he walks on the gravel.
Mark Strand, The Garden

Midday today, it started to snow
a compassionate flurry
spreading a threadbare blanket
as sugar on apple pie
on naked stones that thaw had undressed
over memories of grass in soil hardened;
I watched the neighbour’s cat
as it carefully tiptoes to its comforting home
and as the world darkens
it shines in the garden

while the dusk carefully settles
as an unwelcome specter
snow still whispers
luscious syllables of comfort
words you cannot comprehend
without knowledge and a degree
in talking to flowers
needing replenishing sleep
and gardens waiting, set to be free
in the white foliage of the chestnut tree.

Gardens are libraries
with poetry scrawled in the bark
and essays bending the boughs of the birches;
in the snow a squirrel scribble the tale
of looking for stashes,
while two arguing wrens chat
with the earth worm waiting for spring
into sentences scribbled in haste and hides
in the shadow of cats,
in the brim of my father’s hat

waiting for the unfathomable ghost,
the ancient librarian
to sort the poems from songs
to find the unwanted and compost
the lies to rot and provide nutritions for truth
for the flowers of spring to bedazzle.
The librarian strolls through the twilight
to save and prepare —
Can you hear how he passes and travels
as he walks on the gravel?

Garden in the Snow
Vincent van Gogh

Later today I host dVerse MTB, revising the form Glosa which we lastly dis in 2013, The form consists of four borrowed lines from another poem (the cabreza) and four stanzas of ten lines where the last line of each stanza is a line from the cabreza. There is no requirement on the meter other than it should not be too different from the borrowed poem. There is only one other requirement and that is that in the glosa line 6 and 9 should rhyme with the borrowed line.

My choice was from a poem by Mark Strand, and therefore my glosa has the form of free verse. I have to admit that I have not read much from Mark Strand, but I remember that I got it as an advice as a poet that might fit my style of writing I got in a course in poetry writing I took a few years ago.

By posting early I thought I would offere some extra time to write, since the poem may be seen as being on the longer side.

Come join us at dVerse when we open at 9 PM CET (3 PM in New York)

Since this fits well to Kim’s prompt on snow at dVerse I also link up there

January 22, 2025

31 responses to “Scribbled in the Snow”

  1. A gorgeous glosa, Björn, and I remember writing about poems scribbled in the snow some time ago. I’m so glad to see the aged librarian. I especially love ‘compassionate flurry spreading a threadbare blanket as sugar on apple pie’, snow whispering ‘luscious syllables of comfort’, and the lines:

    ‘Gardens are libraries
    with poetry scrawled in the bark
    and essays bending the boughs of the birches’.

  4. Very nice! I haven;t read much of Mark Strand’s poetry, but if his poetry is as emotionally impactful as this I need to definitely start reading. Great poem and loved the imagery throughout!

  5. “in the snow a squirrel scribble the taleof looking for stashes,while two arguing wrens chatwith the earth worm waiting for spring”Such a gorgeous poem. The lines above these are *chef’s kiss*, while the visuals here enchanted me.

  6. I love the transition of from metaphor from, snow, authoring, to the garden, to the garden as library – and of course, if there’s a library, there must be a librarian…
    “to find the unwanted and compost
    the lies to rot and provide nutritions for truth…”

  9. Beautifully written and a wonderful poem to use as your base. Love that the aged librarian was included.

    Gardens are libraries
    with poetry scrawled in the bark

    gorgeous….

  11. What an amazing write, Björn! I relished every word, and was pleasantly surprised to see the ancient librarian make his way through the garden doing his work “to save and prepare.” You’ve made of him a very reassuring figure no matter the season or the times.

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