The morning snow has turned into ice, and teeters between icy rain and rainy ice while the temperature keeps falling. The spruce are weighted down with wet snow. They sway in ominous slow motion, from top to bottom, to the slow-dance music of a cold northeasterly wind. They look as if they could topple over from the effort of remaining vertical, continuing to dance beneath their steadily increasing burden. The birches wave only their branches and not their trunks. The waving branches are glazed with ice. They are gently waving now, but they could just as easily break off if their ice covering gets thicker and the wind picks up. Both the spruce and the birch are strangely beautiful, transformed by winter's gifts. The trees have gravitas today, and quietly dance as the sky grows dark.
.gif)
No comments:
Post a Comment