Thursday, February 27, 2014

The Quiet Calm

Just before it starts to snow,
There is a quiet calm.
All of nature seems to sense,
The barometric hesitance,
That precedes the storm.

As the cold settles in,
Pale grey skies hang low.
Not an inkling of a sound,
Perfect silence all around,
While anticipation grows.

As first flakes trickle down,
Winter's ushered in.
The beauty and the majesty,
Of God's pure creativity,
Silently begins.

Close your eyes and listen closely,
You'll hear a distinct sound.
Hundreds of light little ticks,
Barely audible feathered drips.
As snowflakes touch the ground.

Mother Nature's artistry,
Gradually takes on form.
Trees and fields of painted white,
Crystal sculptures, heavenly sights,
Sanctify the calm.

Copyright © February 2010
Kevin Mooney



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