From the northern floe
When tones of gray shield the sun,
and shadow the growth.
When the orchard grows quiet,
You will then surely know,
In the midst of her nearing,
winter’s taken its throne.
In cloudy groves
She’s there above you
Collecting in droves.
in solitude, cold.
Do you see her?
Can you feel her?
Her welcome is bold.
Sway to her still rhythm
Dance to her tranquil call
Spin into her blurry with blunder
breathe her earthly calm
Shimmering ice diamonds
she coats the forest floor
Crunching hooves of woodland creatures meandering outdoors. A Foliage foe, wrapped in freezing white, it’s winter’s token soot.
Only the strongest of animals will take this cold barefoot.
Crystal sheets create new scenes, fields of green deplore.
This wild form of heartless cold from mother nature’s core.
And when shes gone and sun’s rays shine down
We will long for that peaceful, blissful whiteout.
For quickly she’ll come, but even more so she’ll go.
This mysterious winter woman
she calls herself snow.
I wrote this because we finally got snow in Southern California! I haven’t seen snow fall in 5 years! Thanks for stopping by everyone!
Feature photo by Siarhei Dzmitryienka