Snowfall

In the morning

The world lay silent white,

A solemn announcement

From the Heavens beyond sight:

 

The fallow world again will rise

From death’s old, cunning slumber.

Though trees are skeletal and somber,

Their roots are fed by winter drifts

That fall from deathless skies.

 

The winter storm that passed in the night,

Sent by the Heavens beyond our sight,

Delivered as well - without joy, without scorn -

Its fell judgment in the morn:

 

All men are weak as infants born,

Though some grow strong and weather storms.

Still some walk hapless, poor, and sick -
For them death’s slumber is sudden and quick.

 

The beggar was found all covered in snow,

Having found in the night no safe place to go.

Outstretched on the church steps he fell,

Frozen hand within reach of the bell

On the door where the snow barely fell.