Snowlight

Full moon shining on a field covered with a frosty blanket of silvery snow - February 3, 2015.

The full snow moon will rise to see 
what once were fields of hay,
She’ll gaze upon the barren rows,
snowed in from yesterday.
She’ll share her night with stars ablaze,
yet spreading little heat
To scarecrow, guarding fallow patch,
they'll come as faint relief.

Where gobblers swarmed the woodland’s edge,
now nothing’s in its prime.
She’s much too late for deer and fawn
they’re bedded down this time.
O’er peaks she’ll rise then wander on
though smaller still as bright.
She’ll gaze upon the snow packed trees,
and shine the owls in flight.

In valley low the sleepy town,
dreams sweet of Summertime,
Yet steeple bells still glisten gold,
protected, they still shine.
The steam, now frozen in the lake,
bespeaks what used to grow.
The midnight dew - oppressive frost,
takes hold of all exposed.

Before the dawn she still must prod
the farmer from his dreams.
There’s cows to milk, the pigs need corn,
the work of winter scenes.
Then reverently she’ll shine her last
and leave behind the chill.
A glowing ball of vivid orange
she’ll set beyond the hill ...

~ Joy A Burki-Watson, The Full Snow Moon