Winter's Breath

The first moments are untouched by man,

No heavy footprints mar the surface,

No cars have turned it to sludge,

The world is still,

Warm underneath a blanket of frost,

The world holds its breath,

As it waits for the children to wake,

But before they do,

Before their squeals burst the quietude

And they make pictures out of snowfall,

Waging battles and crafting sculptures,

Before joy pours into the air,

There is silence,

Silence that demands rest,

Demands calm,

For who could think of work when magic is in the air?

The first snow is of wonder,

As if the world had forgotten its splendor,

And in its remembrance,

Remembers how to rest.