Inspired by the blanket of snow covering London today (and most of the UK and Europe), the silence was what impressed on me most as I opened the door to my garden early this morning, and enjoyed the cold, crisp air and the whiteness. It is magical, transformed into a slightly eerie, subdued space. This poem is what emerged.
London Snow
Silence is not glistening gold,
Nor even densely black.
Silence is white powder
A softly muffled lack.
No cars, no trucks, no buses,
Disturb the cold quiet air.
The cold crisp crust unpierced,
No telltale track is there.
No birds, nor other creatures
Emerge to feed or play.
Leaves and branches bow down low,
Enrobed in flakes of pristine snow,
In homage to the crystal cloak
Of this whitely blanketed day.
©Christine Miller
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