Sonnet: The Blizzard and the The Bride.

Where I'm from the snow is black and muddy.
Winter Springs up from the ground and all the
Trees are spiders. Spindly legs upside down
Not cold enough to freeze, winter just sleeps
In a dreamless void of damp forgetting.
The loss of summer is a heavy thing
And the marshlands never accept winters chill.
Not so here- the earth dies and is buried,
The Burial shroud of snow descends and
covers the sharper edges in the world.
In the dirge of peace and of silent joy
Ringing like bells- the world turns to dancing.
Cycles and cycles from death unto life
Turning this shroud to a veil like a bride.