Snowflakes

 

Snowflakes, falling so softly,  
Blanching old leaves in a clean bed of white.
Winds, rushing, deafening echos of frost,
Rows of saplings bowing to  King Winter.
Long emerald pines quilted on the boughs,
Layered in the serenity of snow.  

The sky goes gray as the snow,
In soft pearly quietness, falls softly
Past the crusty Ice tinsel in the boughs
Covering flora and fauna in white,
As blue light of the low sun in winter
dances over the forest floor of frost .

Glazing touches of Jack Frost  
Cover in low vale and hollow, the snow
rests on ice castles  by streams in winter
as  waters carry flakes away softly.  
Another  night colored in shades of white,
 shadow and shape under winters boughs.

Binding to the forest   boughs,
crystals growing as plants of the hoarfrost.
Brown bark fading gradually to white
as its crevices fill  with blowing snow,  
Padding voids of bosk and thicket softly.
Silver silence in the depths of winter.

Mother night in mid-winter.
Cones falling ground-ward from high, creaky boughs.
The owl silently glides, landing softly
Above the thin crispiness of the frost,  
And the weathered banks of the hard packed snow.
Flakes falling one at a time, all is white.

On a sea of powdered white,
Pushed by swirling winds all through the winter,
The tides of which are fought by men of snow.
Flotsam washing ashore of sticks and boughs
On alabaster rocks smothered in frost.  
Paths covered in blankets, spreading  softly.

Aloft, where pine cones grow upon the boughs,
And bird's homes are covered in sparkly frost ,
Delicate ice crystals will rest softly.