In the country

the world disappears

when it snows,

For the lack of harsh city light.

Trees are tall

threatening ghosts

in woods,

Looming large,

mysterious, white.

But snow does not last

in luminescence,

Overwhelmed by steel and concrete.

It cannot cling to

such great heights,

And is trampled

by hurrying feet.

Barren fields and

forests welcome snow,

And find invisibility.

Hills, hedges and

haystacks brown

All become rather hard to see.

The countryside is one vast blur

Hidden beneath the falling snow,

Recalling peaceful

winter scenes

Back in the days

of long ago.

Diane Sutliff