Outside, there falls a soft snow.
New adventures await.
The possibilities grow.
As I walk to the car, my steps show,
disturbing the new, flawless slate.
Outside, there falls a soft snow.
Against my face, I feel a gust of wind blow.
My tongue and snowflakes conflate.
The possibilities grow.
The darkness almost appears aglow
with white tendrils reaching for their fate.
Outside, there falls a soft snow.
As for me, tomorrow I have yet to know.
This tender optimism in my heart will not abate.
The possibilities grow.
In my car, the evening’s slow.
But hey, it’s snowing! I shiver, elate.
Outside, there falls a soft snow.
The possibilities grow.
“Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.”
— Robert Frost, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”
This villanelle is copyright 2025 by Jessica McLean. File sharing is encouraged.
The Rose 
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