I was awakened by the silent sound of virgin snow blanketing the bushes outside my bedroom window.
My birds, their tiny beaks pecking through the grate of the feeder to extract one last bite before the freeze encapsulated their food source.
I notice branches, cracking, heavy beneath the weight of snowflakes that gathered and multiplied and pushed so hard that they bent and finally gave in with a polite bow, to the winter winds.
Sky, so grey from clouds joining forces to totally block out all the traces of the sun who turned her glance away...
Knowing that she was no match to the guards of darkness that allowed only the snow to shine over the land this morning, laughing and dancing on every rooftop, every treetop, teasing every trace of autumn’s left-over foliage that tried to stand their ground.
The window, standing as an invisible wall between the warmth of my room and the snow’s bitter cold.
The warmth won, as I pulled the curtains closed, climbed back into bed with a slight chill down my back from the thought of those birds, now shivering under the bowing branches that try, so hard, to support their nests from slipping to the ground.
Now, nestled in my nest of blankets, I need not listen to the silent sound of virgin snow.