The forest,
silent-
in repose
no longer green
no longer grows
And whither has he flown
from here
that little bird
who sang such cheer?
See Winter's icy, muffled claw:
so tight its grip
on this land;
so beauteous, the glistening
ice shards borne by
winter-brittle branches.
Hear the silence
Yes, listen
Hear the peace
Yes, listen
Hear the snow falling softly
Yes listen…
The forest,
so silent
in repose
in Winter's grasp
it will not grow
till Spring again
has found her way
and gliding in, on a sunny day
sets Winter's work
to ruin.
©1999 - 2023 Mary Barnett / Moodesigns