The Trees Are Sleeping


The trees are sleeping,

Can you hear?

Their dreams are yet deep’ning,

Are you near?

 .

A snow serenade was swirling to the ground

As we held the air tight,

Tight inside our chests.

A snow promenade made scarcely a sound

But the wisp of the white

And the ambient scent.

 .

The trees are sleeping,

Can you hear?

Their dreams are yet deep’ning,

Are you near?

 .

Their sweet slumbering shall not be disturbed

By the squirrel’s quick paw

Nor our steps in the snow,

This still winter-land calms the call of the bird,

Until the blanket is thawed

And spring’s bounty is shown.

 .

The trees are sleeping,

Can you hear?

Tree

Tree (Photo credit: @Doug88888)

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The sky glows rich with red and gold


The sky glows rich with red and gold,

Above the earth, a silver mould,

Is forged from most complex of casts;

Like most perfect things it will not last.

A blanket that no thread is seen,

Not one smallest imperfection it seems,

It falls across the hills and trees,

And lies upon eternal leaves.

The spoilt canvas once more is pure,

The slashes on its surface cured,

Towns, factories, no longer scars,

Their forms now shining white like stars.

Slowly rich skies of red and gold,

Their colours lose and life grows old,

To the silver blanket draped over land,

“Melt”, the now warm sun demands.

Frosty Footpath - winter snow

Frosty Footpath - winter snow (Photo credit: blmiers2)