White-out
I wakened to whiteness -
Oh, not to carpets of snow
That cover and soften every surface
Hiding all the details -
But to the thickest, hardest frost
That some winter wizard had painted
Or sprayed like icy caster sugar
Dusting delicately every single twig
And every blade of grass
Absolute stillness
Not a creature moving
In this monochrome silent world
The leafless branches of trees
Jutting dark sticks, dry and brittle
Frozen silhouettes
Crystalline shapes
Rimed in frost
Their features sharp and jagged
By the coldest hardness
And the clear glassiness of ice
The faintest moisture in the air
Floating silken gossamer strands
Vague and misty
Thin clouds of a snowman’s breath
Exhaled upon the scene
The distant hazy sky
Almost white itself
Blending with the earth
A dissolved horizon
An under-exposed frame
The under-developed picture
Of a colourless vista
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