An Early Snow Makes No Sound

The trees are all brown and dropping leaves, their bareness too late.

The forest in Fall, a place of peace, has met a grim fate.  

An early snow makes no sound, ‘cept the din of a cracking limb

A broken landscape, a lost nest, a bird upon the wing

The weight of white snow brings a weight of dark death.

It takes a young sapling, a mother’s young brood, the weak’s last breath.


A smothering blanket that comes too soon, a beauty in disguise.

The wandering hiker is unaware, knows not how unwise      

His pause to marvel, his pause to soak in, his pause of great joy   

This early snow makes no sound, ‘cept the cries of a small boy

He’s lost his way, no trail to follow, sees danger along the way.

A paradise can be a beautiful place where no one wants to stay.