This morning,
a snow palace sits in my back yard,
roofed with finest grey leaded clouds,
columned with white capped spruce,
the lacy white adorned fingers
of walnut branches
reaching upward.
White, pristine, the snow carpet,
piled up high,
well over the top of my boot.
Music provided by the orchestra
of Juncos, Finches, Pinesiskens
waiting for their sunflowery pay.
Ah, Winter!
In these moments before I have to face
the roads and the ice
I can appreciate your loveliness.