Fire and Ice

In the winter woodland valley of
the woodland an ephemeral tracery
of exquisite crystalline fire lit
by the sun's piercing rays glitters
and glows like a cathedral of
surpassing beauty visiting dreams
of peacefully slumbering children
eager to race about in its pristine
whiteness, a playground beckoning
as though with a wistful longing
to be admired and to embrace the
exuberance of children entranced
by a landscape of incomparable
potential. There, where trees
silently stand girdled with snow 
their branches studded with crystals
the gossamer-delicate tracery of
frost embosses every surface
even as wind lifts snow in a faint
white skein of silken density to
fall like ectoplasm  over the 
forest floor where stumps of
aged trees snow-heaped stand like
humped ghosts haunting the forest.