Wellesley in Winter, 1946

Happily alone, deep in my grandfather’s New England woods:
Brilliant crystalline snowdrifts against a cobalt sky.
Perfect birches swathed in sparkling, glittering new powder.
Dark shadow, dazzling light, icy north breeze.
It carries my breath into the biting cold
And whispers in soft harmonic undertones with sleepy blue spruce.
Between whispers, absolute and utter silence.
If only all children could experience such wonder and peace . . .
 
-William Walsh   2012