Short Days and the Magic of Moonlight

Winter’s silent song rings through the wood,
The frozen earth echoes with a secret tone
Spellbound in stilled water turned to stone,
And tall trees reach higher than any should.
Like ghosts of summer airs rise from the ground,
Lifting the magic of her music into the sky,
Recaptured by the sun passing close by,
Bare branches hold memories of the sound.

Footsteps fall softly on welcoming ways,
Shadows dance to the music of light,
The lowest soars to the greatest height,
And a lingering golden melody stays.
As if time itself has stopped and stands
Like the conductor’s baton halts the beat,
This frozen scene lays silence at my feet,
That stills a wave from upraised hands.

Evergreen guards surround a silver dream,
That reaches high to fly into the blue,
It plays within a rhythm heard by few,
And fingers fall with every passing sunbeam,
Giving their song a silver touch to change
Bracken painted by an autumnal brush,
With winter’s white garment soft and plush,
And a refrain is heard that’s known and strange.