(sonnet # CCCLV)
The first snow of the season! Pristine, mere
Light dusting, pure and clean, yet dimly bright,
So white in gentle touch soft blessing; quite
A beautifying sweet entrance, Winter's here!
Late morning partly clearing, patches near
And far remain, just little tokens slight
Of delicate dear treasure; while in flight,
Debuting promise more should soon appear.
As under ev'ning's sable cover they
Crept forth for dawning wonder, misty scene
Was all they lent of their approach, ere day
Revealed who'd come by stealth to dot the green
With faintest trim all round on trees; th'array
Of Fall bereaved, thus clothed wears cheerful mien.
02Dec11
D30