Last night’s snow
covers woods
and frozen pond
like a freshly made bed.
Hemlock boughs
laden by snow’s weight
bend supplely,
arch downward and connect,
holding hands.
Are they burdened,
or just resting,
waiting for a wind gust
to initiate their
undulating dance?
When that movement comes,
slowly and gracefully
they release their snow -
oriental dancers
shedding their veils.
Free of added weight
boughs leap skyward.
The ballet concludes.
In the morning blueness
the air is still.
Cold stings my cheeks
and burns my fingers.
But my eyes
scan the floor
seeking the ideal hemlock
to partner
in the next dance.
Jan '08