When The Snow Settles

Childhood in Greece, GI Joe, the orphanage, sunroom in Colorado, the pandemic, and snow globes. These are the far flung ingredients of a poem.

Laurie and I were sitting in the sunroom while it was snowing all around us and it felt like being in a snow globe. I published this when I had 30 subscribers, half of whom were family/friends. I am very fond of this poem, and its flaws. Some flaws are not fixable and over time, endearing, like people.

I was remembering the first time I saw a snow globe but it was more like a sand globe.  Every Christmas our entire Catholic school, Ursaline near Athens, Greece would make the 26 mile trek over the Penteli Mountains to an orphanage in Marathon.  We'd watch all the orphan kids perform the Nutcracker.  Each of us brought a gift to a kid.  I was told to bring something for a 12 year old boy, so Mom bought a GI Joe from the PX for me to give.  I got restless on the hour-long ride over the winding mountain roads and wanted to sneak a peek at the GI Joe doll, the kind of gift we never got as kids.  We got new sneakers, jeans, a flannel shirt, but never something as exotic as a GI Joe action figure.  So, I worked open one end of the box and spent most of the trip to Marathon playing war games with it. 

We finally arrived at the orphanage and lined up opposite our gift kid.  As I'm standing there in a long row outside the bus facing this scrawny 12 year old kid, I realize my box is empty.  I hand him the empty box and he gives me a sand globe.  I learned later that he made it himself.   I couldn't believe he was 12 since he was smaller than I was at 8.  But he was Greek and an orphan and probably didn't eat as well as we did.  In his globe was a tiny woman on a camel fleeing a man on a horse.  He wore a cloak, which was frozen in flight and had a very tiny dagger in his teeth.   I imagined she was Scheherazade fleeing some evil sheik that wanted to force her into marriage, some nonsense like that.  In the stories, “One Thousand and One Nights”, she tells the king stories to keep from being put to death.  Great stuff that I loved when I was a kid and still do now.  When you shook the globe the sand was mixed with some kind of shiny silica.  The sand settled within seconds but the silica stayed floating for a while.  

The Greek boy was thrilled to get an empty wrapped box with action figure scenes all over it. He gave me a great big hug and thanked me profusely.  I felt like a real rat the whole time I watched him dance around on stage.   After the show we all had a giant meal together sitting across from each other.  When it came time to leave, we lined up opposite each other one last time for a goodbye hug and then we boarded our bus.  I remember that it began to rain, which doesn't happen often in Greece. I quickly ran to my seat and found GI Joe doing Army maneuvers under the seat in front of mine.  My new orphan buddy was outside my window energetically waving goodbye.  I opened the window the small amount allowed and dropped the GI Joe into his hands.  Even with the window blurred by the rain, I could see the look of wonder on his face. I can still see it.

I wrote this poem in conjunction with another snow globe that I was given as my prize for third place in a downhill slalom race in Westendorf, Austria.

During the awful pandemic and this hard time for everyone,  I was thinking about how we can't be with the people we love, to offer them comfort, to celebrate Christmas together. If we did, we might infect them or they us, and become undone by our love.  The feeling of being cut off and being so damned shocked with what is happening in our country and the world created a real sense of isolation.  So, two snow globes on a shelf.

              When The Snow Settles

                I see you on the shelf,
              waiting to be picked up 
                        and shaken.
              Such a charming thing,
                a world unto yourself,
              effortlessly maintained.
               Tiny trees rest on hills
                     big as a thimble,
               entirely self contained.
                        In that space
               you will always remain-
             but for the swirling snow-
        unchanging and unchangeable.
              Will that little skiing man
               ever arrive to the chalet
                    and join the others,
           drinking their hot chocolate?
                           Is he safe
               in that swirling blizzard?
                      Will he ever find
                       his way home?
              When the snow settles,
                 does his heart ache
               for the farthest shores,
                 warm, rippling sands,
              and the scent of jasmine
                      on the breeze?

                     Perhaps it’s best
                  that he only dreams
                 because on the shelf
                      just next to him
                  Scheherazade flees 
                         on a camel
             into a terrible sand storm,
                 her red scarf trailing
               far behind, laying upon
                   her camel’s rump.
              Meanwhile, on the other
                    side of the dune,
                    an inch away and
                  whipping a jet black
                      Arabian stallion,
                rides a fierce man with
                  a turban on his head,
                 cloak frozen in pursuit,
                  a dagger in his teeth,
                      and he is gaining.
                  She prays for escape
                 and dreams of the Alps
                        and the smell
             of balsam on a cool breeze.
            She wants long gazes of love
                over steaming hot mugs.
                        With a nudge
                   they could be as one
                   but then their worlds
                     would be undone.

                        Spring- 2020