WINTER IN MY VALLEY

(A requested encore of one of Leona's winter poems 

to usher in December)

  The wind whines in a minor key
blowing its icy breath
through cracks in our doors
feeling with frigid fingers
for gaps 'neath window sills.

The gust heralds a blizzard that lurks
in the somber gray stretch of sky
and advances

with threatening certainty.

As if to toll a frantic warning bell
the wind tugs at the oak tops
shaking the nearly naked branches
showering the ground beneath
with a flurry of faded leaves.

Sniffing the scent of winter
small creatures scurry about
furtively preparing shelters
vying with burrowing insects
to stockpile their larders
in the seasonal struggle for survival
while pond life retreats

to deepest waters
and puts vital signs "on hold"

till Spring.

Sudden dusk descends

on The Valley. A hush settles over

the silhouetted landscape
the gusty gale subsides
its announcement dispatched.
The first few flakes of snow

soon merge
into sifting, swirling powdered sugar
swiftly frosting peaks

of pointed frozen grass
into stiff meringue on neighboring field and hill
until a silver coverlet obliterates

the familiar.

Accept my invitation, friend
to welcome the appointed storm
by enjoying the polar panorama together
before the warmth of our crackling hearth.
Join me in retreat

behind our Jack-Frost windows
to view the outdoor bluster silently
in snug pleasure and the treasure of good company
as we toast our toes and drink a toast
to the impending snows.

So let us celebrate

the manifest cycle of seasons
and winter's measured approach
in the Shenandoah Valley.