A SMATTERING OF SNOW
- WILLIAM PRESTON –
December eve had come, devoid of white,
but then the snow was falling, calm and light;
at meadow's edge, the deer
stood quietly as evening fell to night.
It seemed so strange: a scene so stark and sere
should nonetheless be laden with good cheer
as snowfall silvered bright
the withered remnants left in autumn's rear.
©2021, William Preston