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S ilence fills the air hanging on the limbs of night.
N uances of gray fall into rivers of purple dark.
O nly the crackle of ice and fallen limbs prevail.
W onderous is the falling of the snow

Silence has a ring, a resonace, drawing sleep askance,
filling the air with white noise and the hollows with night,
hanging on the limbs iciciles form sculptural lollies.
Of night we speak and the snow that blesses the ground

Nuances of gray wrap the forest like the mufflers of children,
fall gently into rivers and dells of fantasy where fairies dwell,
of purple-dark the royal dream, the snowfalls deeply tranced.
Only the crackle of ice speaks to the glow of moonbeams.

And, fallen limbs brace to hide the rabbits and the wrens,
prevailing ever against the wonderous weight of snow.
Is the falling a fearsome plight to be shunned no to be sought ..
of the snow, the snow..well, for in its beauty are we all caught.

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