WINTERS GRIP

The snow has settled on us
Like a shroud.
Each day growing deeper
Silence fills the emptiness of the landscape
But for the ghostly sound of the wind
High in the tree tops
The meadows and fields have vanished
The river flows mute beneath the ice
The next valley is unreachable
The mountains as unattainable as the Moon
But soon spring will release the land
From its icy captor
And the winter will be no more
Than remembered conversations
Beside the roaring hearth