S

is for Snow. Today the lane wears a Shawl of Silver. Everyone Slides and Skates and Slithers.

The Snowman has two Stones for eyes, and Binnacle, the Admiral’s Servant, has lent him his old Sou’wester.

“Save me. Someone!” Shrieks Miss Lark, Skidding across the Scene.

Andrew, in his Sealskin jacket. Seizes her Skirt and Steadies her.

“No Skidding allowed!” Shouts the Park Keeper, very Superior, all day long.

But at night, when all is Still and Silent, he Steals through the Solitary park. Singing a Secret Song. Over the flower beds he Spreads the Snow. Stroking it very Softly and Slowly, as though he were Smoothing the Sheets of a bed.

“Sh!” he whispers. “Let nobody Stir. Sleep till the Spring when the Sap rises.”

For the Seeds, you See, are his children. They will Slumber through the dark Season, but the first Sign of Spring will Set them moving. Their new Small Spikes. So green and Shiny, will Shoot up through the Sod.

And how the Park Keeper’s eyes will Sparkle!

“For once,” he will Say, “the rules are observed! The Sunflower turns to the Sun again, and the Swallows are back from the South!”