The winter treasures

The dawn is drawing clear shadows
on the white sheet of sparkling snow.
The wind plays songs to a wide meadow
and lulls the beasts in their holes.

The meadow is a downy carpet
at the brown feet of pines trees,
those pulled the caps on their summits
and stay abreast like speechless twins.

The bushes of hawthorns have look out
from the dark crowns of the trees
to catch the sun in their boughs,
that had been chilled without the leaves.

The bushes are ringing by the jingles
from frozen berries on the branches.
A vivid motley tiny titmouse
is pecking those balls in the dance.

The snow then flakes and fills the air
with the bright blinking whitish sparkles:
the priceless magic winter treasures
from the hard frozen icy glass.

The Sun still dreams to grab the treasures
to shine slight brighter in the sky,
but precious glass beads have been melting
when the warm beams slight touch the ice...

by Thea Ariss 21.02.2024