A Walk On A December Night Poem by B. V. Dahlen

The sky seems brittle,
an inky dome of stars.
Blued shadows stretching
to reach the fence post spars.
From night's last embers
a chimney plume ascends
with whiffs of maple
the purest night air blends.
Small creatures snuggle
in burrows 'neath the snow
Their dreamless slumber
an undisturbed tableau.
My crunching footfalls
hang on the whispered wind.
Pale moon suspended
to heaven weakly pinned.
A sharp crack echoes
from branches laden high
with ivory harvest
gathered from the sky.
Alone I wander
in this dream scape world
to witness nature's
cold beauty all unfurled.
I stand in meekness
in this realm so fair.
My heart finds rest here
in winter's midnight lair.