The gray clouds press in like a dome
and smother the sound of the forest.
There is only the color white of
snow blanketing the Earth.
A flicker of red passes by as
A male cardinal lands on a branch
In the yard. Even the birds are
quiet within their group.
The weight of snow makes the trees
droop with weariness as if an old lady
resting at the end of the long day
that started in the dark.
Everything feels muffled and stifled
by snow and the endless cold and
there’s no sign of Spring any time
soon at the end of February.
The silence is infinite and white.
About the Creator
Fiona Howell
I am Fiona Howell, an Irish musician and a writer hailing from New Hampshire, US. I have two books out on Amazon: The Locked Box and Blackwood. I have three poems published in anthologies by the Peterborough Poetry Project.



Comments (1)
Beautiful! Really captured what it can feel like. I’m in MA