The wintry sky is clear and bright,
Filled with stars’ angelic light
And whispering o’er the frosted land,
A glacial breath―the winter’s hand

The laughing brook, the gurgling stream
Is wrapped in frigid, silent dream
The pastures, once so warm and lush
Now lie with frosty, lifeless hush.

The squirrels, the bears, in cave or nest,
Are bound in long, extended rest
While foxes dart from tree to tree,
Searching for some friendly lee

The flowers, once with faces gold,
Are now dormant for season’s cold
And all the tender, fragile shoots
Wither to their secret roots

The sky is clear and fresh and cold,
Revealing sights of heights untold
Clouds so sparse; their sight is rare
Drifting idly o’er ground so bare.

The snow comes floating down at last,
Blizzards rage with icy blast.
Children glory in winter’s snow
Which shines with dazzling, frosty glow

And slowly, as the seasons wanes
Springtime brings her joy again,
Wiping from the thawing land,
The glacial breath―the winter’s hand.

[Copyright 2010 Emily Faggion]