“I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields that it kisses them so gently?”
Lewis Carroll
White drifts glow
With ethereal light
From the moon filtering
Through the
Skeletal arms and fingers
Of sleeping trees.
They rattle gently
With the passing
Of a frigid breeze
That pushes snow
From its wooden perches
To land with
Muffled thumps
Below.
No other sounds mar
The crystal air
Save the gurgling
Of water beneath
The ice atop
A passing stream,
On its way to
A frozen lake
Nestled snugly
Within a hidden glen
Where more white drifts glow
With ethereal light.
Your poem captures the hush of winter so vividly. I love how the moonlight threads its way through the ‘skeletal arms’ of the trees and how every sound—the rattle of branches, the muffled fall of snow, the soft gurgle beneath the ice—feels amplified by the stillness. The hidden glen at the end is especially lovely, like a secret the night reveals only to those who listen closely. A serene and luminous winter scene.
You took me there. I only wish that your image would reflect the beautiful scene in your poem. Perhaps if you used AI…free if you have Microsoft 365 – maybe from other sources. You could get a moonlight scene in the snow in the woods.
In daylight, the scene remains similar, only there is sound beyond the gurgling stream. Crows or ravens calling in the distance. From memory, I recall playful chickadees cavorting loudly in nearby trees. Not knowing that they were actually warning the forced that I was there and could be of danger.
Share
Print
Save
Follow
In daylight, the scene remains similar, only there is sound beyond the gurgling stream. Crows or ravens calling in the distance. From memory, I recall playful chickadees cavorting loudly in nearby trees. Not knowing that they were actually warning the forced that I was there and could be of danger.
Ron