winter

Like millions of feathers from silver swans,
the floor awaits the cloak of snow it dons.
Furiously falling, serenely settling,
leaving faces marked from the needling, nettling.

January trees in brown rigidness
wear white top branches for seasonal dress.
Glass-like shards drop freefall searing shrubs on touchdown,
pre-meditated cocoons glisten like a crown.

Grey-white clouds threaten all who dare to look;
Once more, quivers stir the oak autumn shook.
Street-lights flicker, glimmer, disappear until -
daylight's gone, it's quiet yet night will not be still.