A gift from nature has both
brightened and darkened
the day. We shelter thankfully
in our homes, warm and dry,
as Arctic gales howl down our
chimneys, across our roofs, down
our streets, scattering light lumps
of plumply-gathered snow,
sticking to this landscape.
Out in that landscape, bundled
in goose-down, we course
through the woods, trees
catching the swirling snow on
receptive bare branches, releasing
clumps as we pass below, we
slowly becoming walking white
ghosts, resembling the static
humped phantom figures of
snow-slathered tree stumps.
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