Snow Song

January, mourning. No sun. No warmth. Only snow, falling slowly, as if piano keys being pressed, softly. A song forms into clouds and descends as gently tumbling music, gracefully covering all with a pause, a touch, a hush. Trees dare not move, lest they lose their blanket of pure comfort. Birds remain still, make nary a noise, lest they miss the whisper-chorus, drifting in from beyond. I hold my breath, and listen... to all of creation paying rapt attention to nature's musical, a moving piano like concerto of gently falling snow in serene pianissimo.