In Virgin Arms

IN VIRGIN ARMS Like first love, snow is always new, unstirred, Always innocent, always pure. Silent now the melodies of the bird, No echo rings through the boughs demure. Branches make it clear in black and white Snow wants to retain its secrecy withal A private place - none to intrude, to invite To disrupt our love, release the thrall Draped in soft thick blanket, each latticed arm, Each limb and finger, completely dressed In a gown of purity, light cover to charm, Takes my love, gives me rapture, is twice blessed. . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Entered in John Freeman's Contest - Pictures of winter