Frozen Zone

There's strange odd shapes on my window pane
Mountains, and valleys, and long white plains
Ferns of silver, and fields of blue
Sparkling and shimmering to my view
The harsh air takes my breath away
It's so clear I can see a mile away
The night is silent, the moon is full
It's ten below I can feel its pull
glimmering, shimmering white on white
Snow piled high in the night
The immensity of the sky above
The serenity of the old wood stove
I can hear the ravens but I can't see
They must be up beyond the trees
Searching for some flesh or bone
Something left in the frozen zone
The shapes have changed since last I looked
The jagged mountains are more crooked
The moon is hanging high and blue
Thirty below before it's through

by Paul Stephen Slattengren

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