Winter, A Maiden Fair

By Terry Lowenstein

Winter has cast her magical spell upon the land,
And no doubt Jack Frost came to lend a hand.
For trees once filled with melting snow,
now ice clad bow low.
And yards and paths once carpeted in green,
Wear instead a covering of sparkling sheen.
Tables and chairs that at other times set ready for you and me,
now look readied for others to come to tea.
For a glistening tablecloth with icicle lace,
is ready for other guests to take our place.
Chairs with cushions of ice topped snow.
Invitingly sit in a row.
And the sound of silence fills the air,
as trees now dressed in gowns so rare;
watch as Winter, a maiden fair,
Stops to chat with the North Wind,
fairy folk and Brownie kin.
Evergreen tea fills many a cup,
as unseen guests come to sup,
on fairy cake, pastries, and snow cream.
Delicacies of which mortals may only dream.
And the moon shines bright on the glistening snow,
as the guests linger reluctant to go.
Their voices of laughter fill the air.
Unheard by the human ear.
They dance and frolic through the night,
And disappear with mornings' light.
What traces left of the party now done,
Are melted away by the rising sun.

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