The night sky, belonged to boughs, bowed brightly by ice
and the moon was moved, by simple silence.
Billows broken by the frozen branches,
lingered left of Libra.

The snow’s soft soul, felt freely fallen.
Its uniform uniqueness, in sullen stillness
stretched out for nearly ever.

Virgo quietly cried, as the leaves dreamed.
Her tears tore through me, with meaning,
like memorable mountains.
The trees trembled weakly, believing winter,
one splintered and shattered.

Bobby Hamby, As the Leaves Dreamed

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