Thursday, 29 December 2011
Snowfall
Hamish Brown
When the first snows come
It is like quiet benediction,
The service over.
We shuffle out, at peace,
Cleansed from civilisation
And the year done.
We look out on drifting purity
As strangers from another age,
Misunderstood.
For a world impoverished, this we know:
That truth has stood.