I awoke to a world

of whitening wonder:

all the bareness of

winter landscape under

soft white snow

fallen ­–

and still falling –

as the dusk falls.

The mountains ‘round

are whited out –

and still it falls,

leaving only the nearer woods

etched stark against

the white about.

The only color I can see

–a red bird in a whitened tree;

The only sound

in a world gone still:

a towhee on my windowsill.

from Legacy of a Pack Rat by Ruth Bell Graham (Oliver-Nelson Books, 1989)