Beyond the window, branches heavy
with the last snow of a long winter…
one final time the morning is stilled by the sight
and soundlessness of snowfall.
It lies heavy on the trees, white as moonlight,
making fantastic patterns of wet black boughs,
and towers of evergreens.
What is spring in the windowpane
is like deep-sea landscape:
fantasy of snow-feathered fronds
weighted, gleaming, seen for the first and last time.
Sister Kate Martin