There’s a chill in the air this evening
afternoon rain hangs where it froze,
above me the North Star is shining,
beneath, Jack Frost nips at my toes.
The trees look haunted and ghostly,
draped in shrouds of lily white;
their death sleep is only transient
inside the grasp of this winter night.
There’s a hush in the air this evening,
ne’er a whisper, not even a breeze;
a December night waits in suspension,
held in time, entombed by a freeze.
The crystalline air sparkles brightly,
before a fine flurry begins to fall;
then, the mystic stillness is broken,
as Christmas snowflakes soften all.
©Stella Armour 2012-12-15
