from the north that cut across the moonlit ocean
the waters shimmer and gleam like gold, as nature
begins her perpetual motion,
an increased volume of sound greets the land with the
hooting of an owl fading away into the hills replaced
by the breath of mother natures icy chills
in a lonely dwelling in a distant field the mice
they scurry across the beams to rest to the safety
of their straw clad nests
fir trees in a forest glade bow down and quiver as
the majestic force of life rises across streams and
rivers
down through the valleys, the villages and towns
the windsong continues until at last, the silence of
the night abounds, snowflakes are falling without a
sound....

mikeymo {Subject to copyright}