No more dirty snow;
Pine trees are covered with white;
Rooster crows from barn.
Snow plows are busy
Carving roads where none exist;
Cars wear thick white caps.
Light around the dark--
Soft white arms embrace the creek;
Still it keeps flowing.
Plowed, piled and pushing
Snow bank overtakes the fence
Which again gives way.
Forest is silent--
Rough branches muted in white;
My feet crunch on road.
I stop--there's no sound
Just the ringing in my ear
Echoing silence.
Old bird's nest is crowned;
Soft white where the babies were.
Snow plow rattles near.
Now the old phone book
Wears a hat in its tree crotch.
(Its winter fashion).
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