The snow that cameand covered everything

Remained through daylight and,as evening fell,

Followed by sleet, became an icy sheet,

Coating the wintry scenein sparkling beauty.

The house next door,ablaze with indoor lights,

Shone like a mighty fortress in a field

Of frozen yard, empty ofsummer's harvest;

A silent solitude no longer used

For picknicking, or busy child at play.

My tree nearby–that I couldtouch in summer

By reaching out my handto its green leaves,

Beckoning to me, gentle and alluring-

That same tree now is distant and aloof,

Sheathed in transparent ice,each twig and branch

Glistening, unattainablein the street lights;

Enchanted ice-maid caughtin winter's grip,

Only released whenmorning warms her limbs

And sunbeams set thecaptive maiden free.

The birdbath, long deserted, is a mirror,

Its surface marred by brownand battered leaves.

Feeders full of snowhold seed no longer,

Nor optimistic bird on slippery perch.

My shed, a tiny version of my house,

Its miniature, modesttaupe-toned cousin,

Wears the same snowupon its slanted roof

As does my own abodein winter's reign,

But now white snowhas turned to silver ice.

Such grandeur viewedat night beneath the moon

Is worthy of an artist's busy brush,

The finery of winter in an ice-storm

Thin icicles, like rows of frozen tears

Upon a fence; frost patternson the windows,

Each fairy flower gleaming like a star.

Venetian lace that dresses every bush;

Diamonds dripping from overhead wires,

Clear crystal jewelsshining in the moonlight.

Then the world wakes at dawn,and stirs itself

And, slowly, underneathSol's molten gaze,

Shatters the spell of cold,indifferent night,

And seeks the timidwarmth of winter's days.

Diana Sutliff

Whitehall