An angel walks in snowdrifts…

On cashmere snows,
an angel walks in snowdrifts.
It's here she weaves no tracing steps-
wolves or roe deer trackers can follow.

Just-when-the wind has fallen hush-     
downwind, she watches, over us.
Just as an icicle hangs in orbit, she hovers,
she glides and settles, directly above us.

On a whispered thread-
the world is hung upon a silent breath.
The sluggish stopped heart stops to move on a new
as the wind and snow her wings flutter on a glow.