The billowing cloak
Of winter
Envelopes the earth,
Blank as a slate,
Awaiting the sun
And its slow ascent
Over the crest of the
Distant mountains,
Waiting for the brilliance
Of years long gone
To illuminate the land.

The sun slowly rises,
Lifting his shimmering arms
Higher and higher above his head,
Demanding the attention of the world.
Casting his gaze upon
The colorless snow,
Soft and wondering;
He transforms it
Into a kaleidoscope
Of vivid colors,
A masterpiece
That he slowly paints.

He gleams like a dazzling crown
Studded with many diamonds,
More astounding and intricate
Than a spiderweb
Made of the finest silk.
The maidens of winter
Shield their eyes against
The daunting brilliance of
His haughty gaze,
Not daring to look him
In the eye for more
Than a second,
Least they become
Overwhelmed by the
Intense radiance
Of his unearthly features,
And wither into
Heaps of wilted, lovestruck hearts.


There one moment,
Gone the next,
Hidden behind his cloak,
Soft, purple, made of clouds;
Teasing the ice maidens
With a glance here
And a look there.
Regal and indignant,
He travels across the sky
In his chariot of fire
Slowly and majestically,
Taking his time,
Gathering the scattered hearts
Of the Winter Queen,
As they melt into the ground,
Sighing, mesmerized,
Enchanted by his luminous eyes,
Unable to look away,
Even as he burns away
At the fuses of
Their short lives.

He takes them up
In his arms,
As he begins his descent,
Past the valley,
D
O

W

N




Lower

and

lower,
Until he is barely visible,
Collecting every last heart.

As he sinks into his
Magnificent throne,
Out of sight
Of the naked eye,
Hidden by the flashy appearance
Of shimmering stars,
And the ponderous approach
Of the thoughtful moon,
His wise, yet humble brother;
He scatters the hearts into the air,
And they dance
Into the distant, waiting skies,
Content and blissful,
To await their next fall


Down

To Earth,
From the heavens above.