On a Winter Day

The early morning quiet was shattered With the sound of crackling crystal crowns, Of elegantlly dressed trees falling into space. Translucent ball gowns crumbled and Crashed in crystal towers on the frozen forest floor. The trees wailed and moaned, joining In passionate strands of choral crescendo weeping. The echoing sad song of the trees Persisted and giant tears splashed Below... The ice palace ball would be cancelled. The sun spread out in joyful radiance, Lingering on everything. The winter night returned, wrapping Around naked trees. The woods are silent now, and listens to The wind as it serenades the trees with soft lullabies. The solitary, pale, crescent moon, gazed down Cool and aloof from a navy blue Midnight colored sky. The stars refused to twinkle and play, or to Carpet the sky with trails of diamond dust. 'Let the melancholy moon hang its lanthorn light' They whispered, after all, the ice palace ball Has been cancelled. Cynthia