After NightSnow
White snow,
Piled four fingers high , on
The still , once green , pine branches
The tree a white caked couch
For the bright red cardinals.
The muffled silence and chill-breeze
Whisper morning peace.
The red dots rearrange themselves
By natures clock.
White snow,
Piled four fingers high , on
The still , once green , pine branches
The tree a white caked couch
For the bright red cardinals.
The muffled silence and chill-breeze
Whisper morning peace.
The red dots rearrange themselves
By natures clock.
