Sunday, December 02, 2007


White blanketing the ground
blanketing trees, roofs
as smoke curls
from the gaping mouths of chimneys.

Dark clouds part
like curtains after the night,
after a deluge of chips
of heav'nly frost.

I wake in the morning -
As the sun begins its lazy ascent –
to light glancing off the white;
a kaleidoscope of colour.

Beauty everywhere.

Out my window lies a tree,
dwarfed by the powder encircling.
It's green a promise of life

vibrant and full in spite of chill.
A survivor in the winter kill.
A time of joy and not of sad,
there is much in white to be had.


Brother in Arms

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