Yukon Winter

Gracefully, gracefully, the dawn doth come,

Creeping over the horizon.

The suns' golden tendrils reach up,

To embrace the purple clouds.

The wind pounds down from the mountains,

A crisp bite sharpens the air.

The icy roads shine joyfully,

Hiding the dangers they herald.

Winter has come at last,

Oh ye of little faith.

She brings the scent of the frosts,

And the flavor of the winds.

A dog barks, the wind howls,

And the snow crunches underfoot.

Crystal laughter from snow-laden pines,

Then silence- all is still.