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Poetry corner -- Snow LightBy Carol Ann Duffy
I was born to the snow, brought to snow light, the glow light of late spring.
My first winter was all snow, ice floes in the river, the Thames frozen bank to bank.
For three years I was beyond snows comfort, beyond star-flake, hoar frost, rime, touch edit only once in a rusty patch, as if roadside and rock-salted.
On Kosiuszkos peak, it mended my snow-broken heart with coverlet, sheet.
My uncle promised me a bucket of snow, a bucket of hail, a bucket of sleet, and in my six year old purity and Adelaides heat I longed for the parcel, to grasp its cold deep, crisp in my hands. I dreamed of snow; snow beyond lamp-post and Narnia, beyond Fives winter adventures, even beyond that cruel joke. Snow, a quilt to lie down in, make igloos, eat.
Today its as if Ive ordered snow; thick flakes for you to mould and mountain, snow-shoe and slide on. You wont know what it is to be blind without snow, beyond brilliance, beyond its dazzling light.
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