The mountains powdered
with termination dust
hark the end of summer.
Soon the clusters of evergreens
will be coated in snow,
just as they were last winter.
The snow falls flake by flake.
It's in no rush to hit the ground;
it will melt once it does.
The fireweed has bloomed -
only towering stalks and wilted
magenta flowers remain.

The same type of peace
befalls my quiet life.
Slowly, I return to old ways.
Like footprints in the snow,
the tread of future days
looks much like those of the past.

It is so bright outside,
I have to squint my eyes.
Has it snowed again?
What a great surprise.

'Cos Winter has long gone.

Yesterday there were blossoms
colouring the landscape white.
Temperature must have dropped
quite drastic in the night.

April's weird and getting weirder.

Changed my plans for today
and bear it with a grin,
just like the bumblebee
I've decided to stay in.

As I am falling into the abyss,
I try to hold on to a thing,
yet there is no way to resist
cold-blooded gravity of swing.

My head chill air begins to hit,
and with the accelerating speed
I'm wondering: "Shall this be it?"
My eyes feel heavy, I think: "Indeed."

A moment later I hear them scream,
as time slows down I face a flow,
I follow it and think: "Bad dream,"
Eyes closed farewelled by dancing snow.

Streetlights glow softly tonight, oh such a simple delight,
Fleeting through the blurred streets, how quick my heartbeats,
Footsteps in snow; paired with faces aglow,
Pitter-pat they go,
Down in Trafalgar Square

A Nordic pine so fine, a true one of a kind,
Upon which one could not scribe such beauty in mere rhyme,
And you'll know it's the right time
When ears hear tunes of glee, eyes see sights carefree,
For it is the season of joy and celebration,
Down in Trafalgar Square

snowflakes
fall little by little,
this town becomes
whiter and whiter.

old memories
keep lingering in the air,
cold breeze
can never blow them away.

in her mouth
the snowflakes melt,
in her lungs
the bitterness overspreads.

old memories
are too precious
to be thrown,
yet too heavy
to be held.

snowflakes fall
little by little,
this town becomes
whiter and whiter.

people rush to home
with longing,
people stay at home
to keep warm.

leaving an empty street
with snow,
carrying love back home
but never the snow.

like my heart
the empty street is,
like my soul
the snow is.

The dry tundra calls to you
Whispering a phrase
A memory that flows
In between and through
The forest needle and pine
Something lies beyond
Far past the snow and sterile ice
Over the great mountains
The places of our birth
Nothing more than an inclination
That all we hope there to be
Has not yet been made know
That the secret hidden for ages
Has in turn hidden us within it
Preserving us in a way unseen
That when the time does come
In far flung ages hence
All things might be revealed
And the barren wastes
Turn to fruitful gardens