and bid good-bye the night,
and find, as I was sleeping,
a shroud of the purest white
has crept in, in stillness,
without effort or a sound,
and softly tucked the world in white,
the trees, the roofs, the ground.
And in this still and softened landscape
I remember… and once again I find,
the magic of the season,
the touch of the sublime.
©s. cooper 2007
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