The stillness of a winter's night invades
a summer day.  What cold and dark can do
to silence nature midday heat parades
before my sleeping yard, pretending true
consuming power swallows enemies
most cunningly by going to extremes.
To burn, equivalent it thinks, to freeze,
although the evidence of triumph seems
a subterfuge designed to overwhelm
the throbbing pulse of life contained in all
the branches, twigs and leaves of oak and elm;
the feathers, fur and scales behind the wall
of darkness masquerading as the light
where silence neither proves nor disproves night.