After the Ice Storm

Morning light falls on ice and snow.
Tempered by fog, the wan sun climbs
the dome of the sky, and fog lifts,
leaving frost in slender fingers
from each ice and snow covered branch.
Alf and I walk aware of gloom and glory in silver silence.
Trees bow in deference to weather.
The boughs sigh and creak, their burdens
crashing to earth in sharp sparkles.
Where, earlier, I had cleared a path
a branch with more than my thigh’s girth
has fallen, and its drop to earth
has obliterated my work
and left me breathless and awestruck,
that hours before I worked beneath
the glimmering weight of ice and snow.

1/4/2021 – David Hirst
Created by KKris. Last Modification: Wednesday 03 of February, 2021 07:19:35 EST by KKris.