That Peerless Stage

The timeless, silent struggle to
prevail when dawn appears to shuffle 
dark night off the stage of the waking
world, like an ageing actor insisting
on yet another !encore! bow to his
pantomiming admirers, was solved
this morning to the satisfaction of
neither of the principal players of the
drama, as the sun struggled in vain
to penetrate an enveloping ice fog
hanging mysteriously on the atmosphere,
sending icily dripping fingers of sparkly
hoar frost to coat each twig and branch
of every shrub and tree sitting upon the
voluminous billowing snowpack on
the ground below. The world transformed
from the opaque black trance of a
star-stippled night to the exquisite magic
of an ice-crystal-infused ephemeral 
fog with its countless fairy-light sources
obscuring reality and presenting a
staged choreography of winter's prized 
luminous display; a stage setting no other 
impresario of delightfully imaginative creation 
could possibly strive in hope to emulate.