November Snow / F.O. Call

November Snow

My garden is a ghost of summer’s glory —
A dim reminder of departed things —
Dead flowers haunted by the ghostly wings
Of bees upon a honey-seeking foray,
A few brown quivering stalks that tell the story
Of sun-drenched summer hours and far-off springs,
White shivering birches where no oriole sings,
Dark spires of spruce with snow bent down and hoary.

This cannot be the place with tulips glowing
Through which at sunset humming-birds would dart
On unseen wings. The drifting snow is blowing
Along bare pathways leading far apart.
O strange white blossoms in my garden growing!
O strange white silence fallen on my heart!

~~
F.O. Call (1878-1956)
from Blue Homespun, 1924

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada]

F.O. Call biography