After great struggle
descends
an alternative calm.
The mind’s swirling sky
now emptied of its thoughts in snowstorm.
Wrapped up like Trappist monks
the trees preserve an immaculate silence.
The cold wind shakes
this proud stillness
Into crumbling flakes,
mercilessly
smiling at the helpless struggle
To keep up appearances at all costs.
Strange faces
sheathed
move in these streets
Wanting a more direct relation with the sun.
