The moon's pale face illuminates mine, <br />As I stand here in the meadow. <br />I admire the path she's made across the water, <br />The path I long the tread o'er. <br />The long silver grass sways at my feet, <br />But I, like the oak, remain still. <br />Caressed by the wind and captivated by it's song, <br />I stand in Winter's early chill. <br />I am paralized by the unearthly silence, <br />Before it breaks under an owl's call. <br />The teeming clouds above me sigh, <br />And I catch the first snow fall.<br /><br />Stephanie Dower<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/first-snow-fall/
