Whenever
nature explodes in an aberrational fury as it has in the east recently, we
quickly reestablish awe for her power and acknowledge our respect, not only for
her seemingly indiscriminate manifestation of the elements, but for a force we
cannot control or appreciate.
In
nature’s harshness, there is poetic beauty.
O’
Eastern states in winters grasp
Delighting
all who choose to know
What
beauty comes from steady cold
And
sifted, blizzard driven snow.
Drifted,
diamond dunes of white
Cover
street and tree and trail
With
crystal sparks from nature's heart,
A
blanket ode to season frail.
Long
shadows cast by breaking dawn
Create
the grays upon the bright
From
standing buildings tall and straight
Peeking,
poking through the white.
Cold,
early hurried people trudge,
With
crunchy steps on blowing way,
Their
rhythmic puffs of huffing breath
Will
vanish with the warmth - someday.
In all things, we can find beauty, if we
look for it. The looking, however, must not diminish our compassion for those
who cannot see it until their weather becomes a gentle climate. Hold on, spring
is coming.
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