Several times in a Virginia winter, God applies on our woodland landscape a coat of lustrous, sheeny ice. He chooses a time between a snow day and freezing rain—beautiful, spectacular, but treacherous to navigate with two feet or four moving tires.
Such a day is today, misty and fog-shrouded but splendid when the sun tries to peek out of the murky clouds.
I sit cozy and content indoors viewing God's handiwork with awe through my picture window across the valley toward the distant mountain before it begins to drip and disappear.
ICELAND IN VIRGINIA
Glistening crystal icicles
adorn the oaks and shrubs and evergreens
stiffening tiny twigs to their fingertips
coating naked branches
painting bark on barren trees
with glass and gloss from ground to crown.
Stark silence shrouds my woodland haven
punctuated by sudden eerie cracks
of heavy limbs falling in slow motion
piercing the crusted snow carpet
that stretches from road to pond.
My muted world stands motionless
except for frenzied snow birds
competing with bold gray squirrels
for each sunflower seed
in my ice-glazed bird feeder.
Dusk descends on slippered feet
chill deepens over the frozen scene
a shivering cold moon rises to cast
silver light on the sparkling woodland splendor
as I thrill at the awesome scene
of my private Iceland wonderland