Winter Dark

The heavens a robin's eggshell
blue, there are no clouds to
challenge the sun's dominance
this winter day. Long filaments
of light wrap around the trunks
of forest trees, illuminating branches
long bared of foliage, as though
defying the day's Arctic chill.
There is a familiar fragrance 
reminiscent of the heralding of
another snowfall, not now, not yet
but an event to be shortly assigned.
An earlier wind of wicked temper
has abated, the glacial atmosphere 
sweetened by the glaring warmth, 
its presence brief, as soon the 
sun recalls its emissaries, preparing 
its nightly absence, surrendering the
landscape to winter dark and cold.