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The Beauty of Winter
I watch as the snowflakes fall
Falling, pure and small
I see them dance to songs unknown
Unknowing, they are, but not alone.
As white as a full moon
Purer than the sky at noon
Dancing to a timeless tune
Beginning at the start of June.
Nothing can be heard on a winter’s day
When all are inside, somewhere faraway
Silence, wearing a cloak dark and cold
Roams around, or so I’ve been told.
I hear the rustle of the trees
The last few leaves
Are on their knees
The wind whispers in the cool breeze.
The sweet scent of the dying trees
Fills the air with agony
And I smell the leaves of the evergreens
As they stand like soldiers, tall and pleased.
Those autumn trees are tender flowers
In their final hours
Losing all their power
Yet they will never cower.
I taste the snowflakes on my tongue
It’s early morning, the birds have sung
A silver mist surrounds this place
While a cruel wind slaps my face.
The bitter cool air
Of winter, so fair
The evergreens stare
Proud, without a care.
The Beauty
of Winter
Ciara Brennan
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