Poem: There’s Magic in Snow

Winter, Winter
I know you must go.
But before you do
Make one last snow.

I. Mignosa

[For Cheryl Power]

“There’s magic in snow,”
He keeps telling himself,

As he slips and falls
Shoveling out the driveway.

He curses with every shovel-full,
But still keeps muttering,
“There’s magic in snow.”
And then he remembers
His heating bill growing
Larger with every snowflake
That assaults his nose.

“There’s magic in snow,”
He persists, as he scrapes
Off his frozen windshield
And crawls into his car,
That resembles more a freezer
Unit in a grocery store.

And all the while
He hears his neighbours cursing
And growling as loud as he is;
And then he hears an echo,
A still small voice break through,
Coming from somewhere Deep-
Down inside a corner of his arcane soul.
And he smiles to himself, and whispers,
in an almost childlike voice:
“There’s magic in snow.”

Brian McGregor-Foxcroft, Winter 2019


Of A Summer in Muskoka and The World’s Greatest Sleeper