I can imagine no stillness more perfect
than a winter night
When the snow has caressed the barren landscape
to purify it in white in preparation for the approaching spring
The trees no longer teem with chattering cicadas
only the sound of descending phosphorescent flakes
Cars dare not brave the treacherous streets as they once did
when the sun shown high and mighty
Like a doughty king
Lest we forget the encroaching tides upon the shores
that he shown over
He blinds us with his vivid blazes
reflected off the frozen ground at morning
but for now it is the time of night
when everything is still
An era we like to pretend will be infinite
Could we stay a little longer?
pondering how to articulate the sound of snow falling
Let us make this a grand masquerade
of feigning to be more than what we are
In this one moment let us be
As grand as the whitewash of winter
Although we are but little things
to the biting chill of an arctic storm
let us at least be drifting snowflakes
Intricate and lustrous for a time before the thaw
Where we will once a again
be returned to the earth