I walk across a constellation

smoothed on glassy sky.

Flakes of powered sugar-dust

sift as I go by.

–

The ringing trees stand silent, watching,

turtle-necked in white,

trunks as straight as nature stand

solemn at the sight.

–

On an islet splays a frost-tree

rising from the ferns

hoar-frost flashing sparkle gems

that seem to shine in turns.

–

I reach the little islet, skidding

slowly to a stop.

I stoop to catch water plant

encased from tip to top.

–

The frosted tree spreads over me

it’s tufted branches shine

while winter blue comes through in hues

as earth and sky align.

–

With awe that feels like stealing fame

I step up to the tree,

and touch the spocked and mottled bark

that seems to call to me.

–

It seems a thing beyond my right

and yet so right to be

with trees and lake and all the sky

so full of praise and free.

–

And now with shiver-quiver sighs

like bowing to a king

the trees bend down their frosted heads

and winter seems to sing.

–

–

–

Photo by Raul Kozenevski: https://www.pexels.com/photo/serene-winter-landscape-with-lone-tree-on-icy-lake-29704565/