by Ron Whitehead
It snowed during the night and giant
flakes are still gently falling. The snow isn’t letting up.
I walk and walk and walk. I am in awe of the
beauty blanketing me.
I’ve lost track of time.
I find myself in a field surrounded by woods. All
around me the wind whispers through the limbs
the branches of the barren trees. The wind whispers
through the fur of the cedar and pine trees. A lone crow
caws in the distance, searching its way home.
I hear a sound louder than any other,
a loud yet soft hushing sound,
the sound of falling snowflakes.
The hushing sound
is transporting me to a time and a
place long gone, an eternal time and place
that dwells in me in my heart’s memory.
When trees are shorn of their leaves
And the bird’s sonnet lulls the dreamers to sleep
In the thick of the poinsettia’s tongue
Flaming the blood of the young
The mouth of tomorrow yawns
And star shaped snowflakes sing in whispered breezes
Twisting , turning, tossing, in balletic posés
Flashing through the air, light as whipped soufflé
Soft as marshmallow
Icy threads of silver sew the spider’s web
Freezing ice and stalactites hang from Nature’s ceiling
While all around the sound of Summer in Southward slumber.
Shadows of a White Night
by Cody S. Decker
As the day finally fades
I step outside
and the whole world feels wrapped
In the freshly dropped silence
Of a winter blanket and
Not a spot throughout the night
Everything I used to see is hidden
And what used to be hidden
I can see
The tracks of the midnight raccoon
Leading to the trash cans and back
The hills and slopes
Of the neighborhood
That blend in as normal
On any normal day
Now stand out in beauty
Shaped and molded by accident
The neighborhood cats
Who tend to stalk and roam
And rule the night
Can be spotted
Where they think they aren’t seen
When the snow covers so much
That even the shadows are white