There’s the crystal shiver of an icicle
Falling from a bank where the runnels are deep
That the last snow cut in the red-brown bank
Where the melting frost-rills creep.
The pine tree branches are bending low
With a wet, white weight; and a woodpecker drums
On a locust tree that will blossom white
When the call for honey comes.
The elm tree is gray with a purple shade,
And the sky seems to hang too low;
But I’ve seen a light that the willows made,
Yellow against the snow.
The edge of the wind is dull and wet;
The thin ice over the stream looks black;
And I know that power to power is set,
And winter is turning back.
Louise Driscoll (1875-1957)
from The Garden of the West, 1922
[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the United States]
Louise Driscoll biography