it freezes- all across a soundless sky
the birds go home. the governing dark's begun:
the steadfast dark that waits not for a sun;
the undefeated enemy, the chill
that shall benumb the voiceful earth at last,
is master of our moment, and has bound
the viewless wind it-self. There is no sound.
it freezes. every friendly stream is fast.
it freezes; and the graven twigs are still.
excerpted from [month of] january by hilaire belloc
".... and the graven twigs are still" love that, and "the viewless wind" Yes, it truly is January.
ReplyDeletethe wind is racing through the bare trees outside my house . . . they are tall - seventy five feet or more . . . in one, a pileated woodpecker is tapping for food . . . with no regard for the wind, the snow . . . entirely hopeful of food . . . . steven
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