Hushed

 

The storm has spent itself

the energy of its relentless spill of

downy white lapsed into silence

as it regards the landscape below

from its perch in a silver sky

reflecting the snow below

or perhaps the snow is a mirror

image of the sky hovering above

with a slight variance of interpretation.

Boughs hang heavy with snow

green needles cradling snownests

which no birds will invest themselves

within for already they are sliding

off their perches on limbs as the

atmosphere warms and releases a

steadily increasing rain of snow.

The storm that blew from the east

has slapped a thick hide of crusted snow

on the east-facing trunks of venerable

trees that have seen many such storms

over their aged presence. The hills of this

ravined forest undulate, humped in white

extravagance extolling the virtues of

the season in a dazzling wonderland.

Hush, birds murmur as they settle

into sleep comforted and secure.