Silver Brushstrokes
Branches stretch reaching out
With crooked arms twisted fingers
Fearful shadows linger not
The forest begins its nightly moves
The western twilight fades
Into misty-smooth serenity
The breath of God becomes the frost
That performs its secret ministry
Frosted trees form crystal archways
Grasses form crystal pendants
God with silver brush-strokes
Paints the scenic stillness
C. S. Craig
November 22, 2019