Snow Mysteries

The dark cauldron of the
night sky has been flooded
by a host of whitely effervescent
crystals, silently illuminating
the heavens with their glow,
comforting the sere landscape below.

The stuff of the Universe towering
above, mingling with the frozen
essence of our existence. A pale
shimmering penumbra of pink
glazes the sky, reflecting our
audacious presence on this Globe,
infinitesimally negligible, yet

singular. As morning dawns,
cardinals trill, woodpeckers drum
and a group of mourning doves
whistles onto the naked branches
of a venerable beech, nine in number.
The tenth possibly won by the
deadly skill of a Great Grey owl.

In the woods, animals have
awakened to their transformed
reality, and tracks betray their search
for food. There are the squirrels',
leading from tree trunk to ground
level, their familiar terrain
daily explored and exploited.

And there, yet again, those
mysterious, light and thin-straight
tracks defying identity. No ground
bird known to drag its tail feathers
absent clues of foot-track on
this dewy-fresh blanket.

Crows croak derisively above
as the mild temperature has
its way, melting the light, lofty pack
off conifer branches brought low,
and the creek's released energy
gurgles triumphant toward
the great river lying beyond.