Sound of Winter
Soft through the night the snow doth fall
To blanket walks and fieldstone wall,
It lightly touches trees and vines
And gloves the hands of sleeping pines,
A veil across the street lamps face
A pantomime in frosted lace.
(Poet’s notes: January 11, 1991, 5″ snowfall in New York City)
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Virginia Gambardella lives in New York, only three miles from where she grew up. Her dad was a naval engineer and adventurer, and her mom, who sometimes called her “lamb’s lettuce” was a dressmaker for Bergdorf Goodman (she made all of Virginia’s clothes). Virginia has one son and three grandchildren and enjoys: people, holidays, antiques, nature, gardening, fishing, decorating, fashion, sharing knowledge, cooking and baking. She describes herself as “a memory keeper to the extreme”—she even kept her son’s baby teeth. She’s a cancer survivor, a pancreatitis survivor, a widow, and the re-inventor of her life, “as necessary.” She likes to exercise and spends every vacation at the beach with family.