Dedicated to all those who live far enough north to experience this during the winter months.
Autumn’s colored splendor fades away.
It’s coming; I hear the north wind’s song.
Bare branches stand against a canvas gray.
Days shorten; nights become too long.
Cool, crisp, sharp, raw, blue.
Varied harshness marks its passing here.
Sometimes, weak ones do not make it through.
Occasionally, it makes the strongest fear.
Blinding brightness – Snow is on the ground.
Ice crystals bend the straining bough,
and break the silence with their tinkling sound.
Surreal, it manifests its beauty now.
The rudeness of its entrance dims at last
Warming gentle breezes bathe, heal.
God’s paints upon this dismal scene are cast.
From dormancy, a new life to reveal.