Comforting The Day

The silent, dark hours of the
long winter night yet gleamed
and glittered as though mocking
the endless unseen stars above
in their infinite constellations
frozen in space, by a constant,
delicate embroidery of snow 
cast by uncountably graceful fingers
of atmosphere from the dome of
the world to the winter landscape
below. Not the merest whisper of
wind greeted the dawn looking 
in awe upon the wonderful
whiteness comforting the day.
Yet the deep, light burden of
tree boughs heaped to excess,
loosed great curtains of snow
from their evergreen masts, an
ephemeral veil of scintillating snow
dancing in the cool air, reflecting
the star-crowded space of the 
universe in minuscule mimicry.