Day 9 - Snow thoughts

The ice on the pond melted early that year so they didn't quite manage to skate.
And though Spring came eagerly bounding along like a puppy let out of the gate,
it didn't feel right that Winter was gone when it already had arrived late.
The white arctic hares woke from short hibernation, but seemed reluctant to mate.
The reindeer weighed down by their late term gestation as if they were going to inflate.
And bearberries started to show through the snow, unheard of in this northern state.

The look in his eyes was of studied concern as he whittled the log in his hand.
His mind kept returning to how the world changed, while his hands kept on carving the stand.
The world that he knew when his father was young, was becoming a different land.
And he worried at what all that change would entail, for he didn't think it would be grand.
And how all the folk would to keep on with their lives, had not, to his knowledge, been planned.
In this strangest of times, when the winter was short, and the spring had been stretched like a band.

He stood up from his work as he need a break, 'cos his mind had not been on the wood.

But even distracted the block he had held had begun to take shape as it should.
As a bird that was perched on a short stump of tree, peering out as if under a hood.
If he thought there were ways to set right how things were, he'd do all that he possibly could.
Yet he knew that small changes when placed close together, had the power to make the most good. 
So he didn't despair looking out at the snow, in the same space his father once stood.