Cut Glass

On By MiCoIn earth, nature, poetry, seasons

It came in the night.

Not silent like time,

but with a taping and clicking.

All night I heard it.

I knew they didn’t know.

They were already asleep.

Warm sleep deep down in silent winter sleep.

When morning came and the sun caressed them

they sparkled like cut glass in their coating of ice.

They didn’t know that someone had dressed them while they slept.

I was the only witness to the magic, this winter magic.

I must remember to tell them in the spring when their sap flows again

and their buds unfurl.

I wonder if they’ll believe me.

Winter trees

 

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