I watch the Snow falling in the halo of a lamp-post
Piling over sleeping stones like Elvish Mithril
Blanketing them in its cold, and shining brightly
Elsewhere its sparkling cloak slides slowly down into
The stream, to become one with the water, and then
You realise the beauty in its transient silken form
In this slowed down season you walk the early morn
With flakes of stardust settling on your sleeves
Fallen perhaps from galaxies far, far above us
You walk in solitary silence, in the stillness of a
Silent meditation, finding a gift in Nature’s moods
The present signs of cold and the elusive night sky
We may dream of high-towered San Gimigiano, where birds
Fly heedless to and fro, of strolling slowly around a square
Where scents of wild thyme and olive trees abound
But we are children of the North, where Winter enables us
To find our way again to stillness, our soul’s deepest need,
And warmth in love and friendship amidst the silent Snow