Winter Solstice

 

There are no wind gusts to blow

the cascades of snow into hidden

crevices in the muted landscape as

the opaque curtain of white billows

and swells and then ebbs but the snow

still falls in light flurries spiralling gently

to the forest floor, waylaid by the

outstretched boughs of fir, hemlock

spruce and pine weaving fine embroideries

of nature's lace to grace the forest trees.

Pewter-shaded clouds stuck fast to the sky

relieving their burden with no inclination

to move on. The weight  of the snow on

cedars droop boughs until they're released

and a fine skein like ectoplasm drifts to

the forest floor, a silent testimony to

winter's arrival as the solstice approaches.

The preternatural dusk of the inner forest

surrenders to deepening twilight, itself

melting gracefully into the darkness of night

and still snow sifts through the landscape.