Winter Blizzard

The night atmosphere is never
so dark and calmly still that it
cannot stir itself from the complacency
of a monotone to suddenly instruct
the heavens to loose a gossamer veil
of delicate ice crystals, bewitching
in minuscule variety and shimmering
light to relieve the encompassing
blank canvass of the nighttime hours.
Nor can it predict with any degree
of accuracy what will follow when
it so bestirs the creative elements
of nature. Invoking the privilege 
allotted to wind and to winter chill
entering the landscape to also
present their alternatives to a silently
quiescent night. Introducing the
wild bellowing of cyclonic windbursts
scattering and shattering the
metronomic orderliness of falling
snow, freezing the arras in a
photographic likeness of hell freezing
over; night starkly transformed.