ere the dawn rises
and pins the sun
like a boutonnière
to pale silk
his cloak a lining of silver
draped in folds trailing lightly
over a glittering floorto greet the dawn,
the trees put on white dresses
matrons stately in their sunday best
and the little ones
though overweighed by their finery
stand proud nonethelessthe trees are held in dawn’s thrall
branches like dark hair tossed by the wind
sequins of ice crystals
throw prisms of color
tiny rainbows that kiss my skini watch this meeting,
this dance between sky and earth
ere the dawn rises
This is a poem about how beautiful the world is after a big snowstorm. This is the stuff that makes living in a place where the air hurts my face worth it. Sister-poem to Of Many Voices.
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Cassandra Armstrong Writing 