This

As the scenes of snow unfold,
The ice in the wind, like time,
Has no hold.
Flitting in a blink,
The stings gift,
Is the gift of a smile.
An extra layer of warmth,
However cold the journey or far its mile.
Set where clouds are met,
There's a balance linked in light, in dark.
The ambient and the stark.
It's a source of strength,
These mountains and these lands of home.
And on the edge, its brink,
Where better placed to pause and think.
To let the reason be as is,
To be no more than this,
For this,
This,
Is peaceful and this,
Is bliss.