Can you hear the snow’s quiet trumpet?
Its silent song serenading the gray.
Cold flakes falling in the ballroom of winter.
Gravity tickles lose her gentle curtsy.
Witness wet chastity dressed for her wedding.
A feathery waltz down to soil’s massive ache.
She is frozen crystal in timeless perfection.
How wickedly jealous the fire must be.
one of my favorite CDs that i play at Christmas is of all classical trumpet and organ music (Bach and others).
this poetry makes me think of it. and i can’t wait to break it out!
beautiful poem.
“Venerates” is such a great word.
wow! you have such a way with words.
Lovely 🙂
Snow’s trumpet is being heard in these parts these days. At least it’s a slow and gentle approach, rather than a sudden burst of iciness!
her gentle curtsy… beautiful!