Enchanted night draped with fresh snow
‘neath winter moon of milk that pours
silky webs, beauty to bestow,
like sparkling sand on foreign shores.
Like hooded druids stand the trees
marking out the shadows of time.
Little raindrops fall down and freeze,
encouraged by the wind’s low whine.
No voice calls except the old owl
that lives in yonder bough of pine.
Shaking off his snow-laden cowl
He watches for a star divine.
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