With Snow

With snow came a silence,
Space to look
Trees tall and still
Like ruins steeped 
In their own history.
Sky grey and networked
With naked branches
The human is vulnerable,
Easily broken waiting
Like the trees...
Like all creation
For a next step 
Toward history’s culmination.
Birds, squirrels
All life forms seek survival
Blackbird pulsates in approaching night,
Cold penetrates
Like a searching question.

                                    George Coombs