Snow-Laden Clouds

Just past midday on this winter
afternoon, a subdued atmosphere
prevails, where an aura of dusk
pervades the snowbound woods.
The landscape has divided itself
into monotones of dark-and-light.
White, the forest floor, but for slight
interruptions at random intervals
where wind has wrenched branches
dead and live, from their canopied
perches, a natural pattern of untidy
episodic reminders of flux and
renewal. Dark and stark trees
outlined against the opaque light
grey of the sky surfeit with snow
yet to descend. Clumps of snow
and of ice adhere to every surface
persuaded now and again by the
insistent wind, to release upon the
icy atmosphere. Fingers of cold
probe and penetrate every crevice
and crotch where overwintering
insects and birds seek shelter. At
the crest of a hill where spruce, fir
and pine recede, stag-horn sumacs
proliferate, and there, beyond in
the sky, the sun struggles in vain to
penetrate the snow-suffused clouds.