Lace and flannel fall
on February ground,
like flocks of woolen lambs
huddled
upon the leafless hills—
Tell me,
can you hear the sound of snow,
catch the tranquil meekness
quite unlike
the clamor of rain
or the tumult of sleet,
horse hoofs that trample
the cobblestones —
garments with diamonds
descend,
clothe the naked branches,
there are no echoes
from their voiceless song,
no footsteps
to their elegant
dance.
by D. G. Vachal © 2013
*** Photography: Winter Trees by T. Frarug