The Stars That Fell

All sound is hushed in the
frozen woods. No fierce wind to
give voice to the agonized clacking
of tree tops, they remain silent,
nakedly immobilized. In the valley
of the forested ravine its creek
too is silent, frozen and at one
with the landscape lush with new
snow, as downy-white and lightly
feathered as a swan. No birds sing
this icily ephemeral day, though
through the raw canopy of trees,
the sun, luminous as breaking dawn,
bursts its fierce bright light,
piercing the atmosphere of late
afternoon. A mere whisper of
breeze tantalizes a shimmering 
veil of snow from a burdened
branch. In this magical arras, 
each needle and twig, branch and
limb is softly limned in pure white
crystal stars that fell from the sky.