Advent IV—Andrew Peterson
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by Andrew Peterson
Snow in Houston. It’s such a rare beauty. I walked outside in disbelief and saw The damp white flakes angle down, steadily, As if they too were surprised, open jaw Mute with praise as snow touched down and melted. A few months ago it was the great flood Of ’17, the worst ever, they said, When the hurricane heart pumped so much blood Until the storm died after days and days And its corpse was the standing water Decomposing in the streets, the earth’s face Soaked in mud and rot and matter. But the flood is gone. Now it’s only snow, White and quiet, miraculous and slow.
In addition to being the founder of the Rabbit Room, Andrew Peterson is a singer, songwriter, poet, and the author of the popular children’s series, The Wingfeather Saga.
Calls me to AWE! YES!
This was like a word painting you stare at, enjoying what you see, but only at the very end realize some technical detail about it. That was me reading this one. My brain didn't latch onto this being a sonnet until the last two lines.
I enjoyed and was moved by the tension between snow and flood. Not surprisingly, considering the poet, this also had the feel of song lyrics. I enjoyed reading this. Thank you for sharing!