The Snow That Heard Me Coming

by The Winter Child Poet

Some mornings arrive with a kind of hush that feels almost personal.

The world isn’t busy yet.

The light hasn’t fully chosen its color.

And the snow waits in a stillness that feels aware of every breath you take.

Today’s poem lives in that kind of morning.

A single child steps out into the quiet,

and something in the snow shifts—

not dramatically,

not magically,

but gently.

As though presence alone is enough to be noticed.

There’s something beautiful in the idea that the world can respond

without needing to speak.

No signs,

no whispered messages,

no grand unfolding of winter wisdom—

just the soft way the field leans toward the warmth of careful footsteps.

Sometimes that’s all a moment needs.

A quiet recognition.

A shared stillness.

A sense that you’re not moving through the day unseen.

The Winter Child doesn’t seek anything in this poem.

He simply walks,

and the snow listens.

It’s a reminder that gentleness carries its own kind of gravity—

the kind that invites even a silent morning

to draw a little closer.

❄️✨Read the full poem and analysis tomorrow 23rd: https://alkonda.com/2025/12/23/the-poem-of-the-day-72/