The pure polar blanket of alabaster that once lay at the feet of sleeping trees no longer reflects the faint day’s light from barren skies of grey. Vanquished from the surface, transformed into liquid tinder, fueling the inferno of rebirth overhead.
The lake’s opaque tempered shell falls victim to longer days of Spring. Solar rays peel back Winter’s mask from the great mirror’s face, once again allowing Mother Nature’s image to rebound into the heavens.
I am but a single bard, standing in awe as the muse of the cosmos whispers gently in my ear; inspiring my voice, empowering my pen, painting my soul with respect; a respect of this place here and now, this beautiful place, adrift among the stars.
Late Winter’s dusk set in shades of magenta and tangerine.
The Sun’s promise to the frozen soil, and sleeping trees
That Spring’s thaw will soon arrive, warming the land and seas.
Mighty trees’ boughs and limbs caressed by a warm breeze
As sunshine feeds their new and supple leaves of green.