December – Jane Rosebery

December’s poem is by Emily Dickinson. Emily Dickinson was so clever. She wrote an entire poem about snow without ever mentioning the word “snow.” Grab your cup of tea and enjoy reading this winter poem. (PS. (October and November poems here.)

It sifts from Leaden Sieves
By Emily Dickinson

It sifts from Leaden Sieves –

It powders all the Wood.

It fills with Alabaster Wool

The Wrinkles of the Road –

It makes an even Face

Of Mountain, and of Plain –

Unbroken Forehead from the East

Unto the East again –

It reaches to the Fence –

It wraps it Rail by Rail

Till it is lost in Fleeces –

It deals Celestial Vail

To Stump, and Stack – and Stem –

A Summer’s empty Room –

Acres of Joints, where Harvests were,

Recordless, but for them –

It Ruffles Wrists of Posts

As Ankles of a Queen –

Then stills it’s Artisans – like Ghosts –

Denying they have been –

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