Outside I look where the snow falls,
Quietly upon the sullen sound,
Not a sound or sight disrupting the serenity,
Of a morning interrupted by a rain of white.
Oh what a sight, to see the invisible cock summon,
The eve of dusk and the dawn of light,
Where the sun hides beyond a cloud of grey,
Hovering above the onset of the day.
I grasp a warm cup in my hand,
Smiling at the pristine whiteness of the land,
Stretched throughout my vision, and see a sign,
Of the welcoming of winter, pure, divine.
That the faintest mark set in the cloud,
Casting the winter morn in a deceptive shroud,
Locked into its icy fury,
Of winter, in her deceptive beauty.