Monday, April 3, 2017

Winter Night

The North wind whips the frozen trees,
             The snows are on the ground;
The mirror of the solid lake
             Is cloaked with leaves of brown;
The birds have flown their summer nests,
             The gophers gone aground,
As flakes of white continue
             To fall without a sound.

How bare and still the world seems
             Beneath its veil of white;
How lofty are the treetops
             Which reach into the night,
How far away the moon is,
            Yet on the Earth, so bright
As on the ground, the snowfall
            Reflects the pale moonlight.

The North wind whips the frozen trees
           The branches nod their heads
And dream the dreams of coming springs
           Beneath their berries red.
Their thoughts to not belie despair
           Though all the world lie dead
They turn their minds to things reborn
            And all that lies ahead.

Alison Day