From March back through November landscapes draped in black and white br As knife-like shadows in the forests pierced the dimming light br And even mighty rivers disappeared under the strain br Of crushing flows of ice after a night of freezing rain br br For now the only sounds that crackle out through winter's hush br Are frozen pods of snow which to the ground from treetops rush br Exploding on the forest floor as from a fearsome hoard br Of Norsemen fighting wildly for their own wintry warlord br br And so it is that through the coldest season of the year br We sequester deep within the halls that we hold dear br Waiting for the sunrise and the promise it will bring br That the stranglehold of winter will be broken by the spring br br Then finally it happens; ice flows melt and streams cascade br Flowers bloom and fruit trees blossom while the pall of winter fades br Black and white are all forgotten as a rainbow now appears br And the cycle reinvigorates the passing of the yearsbr br Richard Lackmanbr br