Walking After A Snowstorm: December 4, 1995 MAG

By Unknown, Unknown, Unknown

   Sweet night, cold and clear

enfolds me with gentle arms.

Snow, so even and delicate on the dark ground

puffs beneath my trodding heels.

I shiver with awe, thrilling to catch a laden glimpse.

Silver-tinted trees glow below an exultant sky

huddling around the lunar maiden.

Cloud vessels flee,

their silhouettes giving way to effervescent moonlight.

I walk, lightly, for I dare not disturb the perfect blanket,

Not one exquisite inch.

Silken sky gazes on this wintry world, for once, almost jealous.

I gaze on a crystalline scene, its azure splendor ablaze with cold fire.

Jewelry of the night, irreplaceable and precious.

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