Snow in....

THE
FOREST

Pitch-black limbs
A winter’s nigh’
Cobalt gray
Ceilinged-sky.

Waiting stiff
To receive
Blanket white
A winter’s weave

Of falling
Flakes
Upon each
Limb

Their stark
Pitch-black
Begins
To dim

For black
Goes soft
With white
On bark

To show
How light
Can pierce
The dark.

For light
On frozen
Warms
The chill

In black
Stiff-souls
Of obstinate
Will.

Then ceilinged
Sky’s
Eternal-
East

Will boast
The sun
And its
Increase…

Upon each
Limb
Now transformed
White

Hoping
Spring
Is soon
In sight.

Where once
Black-limbs
Were stiff
And frozen…

Bend in
Wind…
The forest-
Chosen.