Here
in this moonlit
pacific northwest forest
midnight’s snowfall shimmers
through the boughs
of old growth
standing tall
their stately silhouettes
paint the powdery canvas
in niveous abstract
the forest feeling
deep and still
meditative
it is alive
it is my soul
its pulse
my pulse
this January night
sparkling snowflakes
as if stardust
have drifted to rest
from the heavens
casting a silent spell
blanketing
high-mountain meadows
in crystal down
this night
fell quiet and crisp
a great white owl
echoes hauntingly
through frosted cedar
as in reply
the low belling
of a white-tail deer
head raised
to the stars
drifts dreamlike
down the mountainsides
resonant in the canyons
a gentle stream
murmurs softly
meandering
‘tween crystalline banks
of sculpted ice
further up the mountain
these streams are rushing
churning whitewater
roaring forth
their power and presence
as gorgeous trout
browns brooks rainbows
and feisty cutthroat
muscle their way upstream
traversing the rapids
to settle in still edgewater
moonbeams sparkle
on snow-draped conifers
like diamonds
necklaced enticingly ‘
round the supple shoulders
of fair lithe ladies
it is a deep night
to linger and listen
mesmerized by chill silence
a magic enchants
the sleeping earth
gently it slumbers
encloaked in winter white
adrift in time and space
the fragile fall of snow
its restful blanket of peace
*
rob kistner © 2023
More poetry at: dVerse