The light of winter is blue where it rests on snow,
silver where it catches the edge of ice. Under the moon it is magic, soft as smoke,
mysterious and cold.
Winter light seems barren where it stretches over empty fields,
the green of pine in winter is not a fertile green,
as the white of distant stars is not the white of daisies.
The white glacier is an impermeable light.
Winter light is at its best in fire, where the warmth of flame meets wood or wax. Radiance flares like a hand held up
To keep the darkness back.
Kate Martin 2010