With a vengeance came the blizzard,
The snow fell thick and fast,
Directed by a howling wind,
That whipped and lashed and laughed.
For days it snowed, and it was cold,
Folks could not go outside,
The snow drifts and the snow banks grew,
Like mountains in the sky.
Every bush and every shrub,
And every limb on every tree
Was packed and wrapped in snowy white,
 As far as one could see.
More wind, more snow, more icy cold,
The whole world turned white, it seemed.
For days and nights the storm raged on,
The worst tempest ever seen.
Then suddenly one night,
Precisely at the Midnight hour,
The snow storm stopped; the moon came out,
And the sky was filled with stars.
The night was hushed and quiet,
No motion anywhere,
A silence like none heard before
Cut through the frigid air.
Where mounds of snow had piled up
Now emerged fascinating things,
Like palaces and castles,
And mansions fit for kings.
Stretching high into the sky
Were white towers with white domes,
With dangling, hanging icicles
That glimmered, gleamed and shone.
And in a tower window
Was a silhouette in white.
A profile with a saucy nose,
Perhaps a princess in the night.
While down below, a brave, white knight
Sat astride a bold, white steed,
His shoulders back, his head held high,
Like he'd done some noble deed.
Behind him was a monster,
Smirking, lurking in the rear,
With frozen froth about its mouth,
And icy claws posed in the air.
Its tail, as long as a city block,
Frozen motionless and still,
For were it thawed, and could it move,
That tail would surely kill.
Off to the side, in innocence
Stood an alert and listening deer,
Its head was cocked; its ears straight up,
Perhaps, in a state of fear.
Then one last site on that brisk night,
Appeared before one's eyes,
A tiny chapel, bathed in white,
Suddenly materialized.
The moonlight struck it perfectly,
Gave it a golden glow,
The aura of a sanctuary,
A sacred place within the snow.
A holy site on this winter's night,
Like never seen before,
Men were led to bow their heads,
As in the presence of the Lord.
 Born in such an awful storm,
Were these awesome, wondrous sights
Who would believe such magic,
In the middle of the night?
In the morning the sun came out,
And shone smartly on the snow,
Which sparkled in the early light,
And let its beauty show.
How lovely now the world looked,
Serene and calm and bright,
But disappering fast, it seemed,
Were those treasures of the night.
The palaces and castles
Were fast becoming melted ponds,
And the princess in the window
Was now a floating frond.
The brave, white knight had vanished,
His bold, white steed had disappeared,
And in their place, a trellis
Surprisingly appeared.
 The monster, now a pile of logs,
No froth - no claws - no tail,
Nothing frightening at alll,
Just a stack of posts and rails.
The listening deer, no longer here,
Just an odd-shaped thicket left behind,
Nothing special - sprigs and twigs,
Snarled, twisted, intertwined.
Everything had vanished,
As seen that prior night,
Each vision thawed and melted,
No more imposing sights.
With one exception, all was gone,
Just the little church remained,
The snow had disappeared from it,
But nothing else had changed.
One now could see it was composed,
Of Pine trees standing proud,
With branches raised like arms in praise,
Their tops, in reverence, bowed.
This lovely, little, wooded church,
Of course, would last forever,
Dressed in white in winter time,
And green in summer weather.
Though the other images were gone,
It was right this vision stayed,
And tomorrow it would be the same,
As today and yesterday.
Virginia (Ginny) Ellis
Copyright March 2005