Snow music falls silent
Among the crisp dew
Waiting for night
Inside the foyer of God.
Cathedral echoes are heard
Down long halls that smell of oak
Of kings and queens as Songs
Attend to the snowdrifts outside.
I approach this castle, my memory
Hearing quiet melodies of time,
Sing canticles of my ancestors
Vetted to a confluence of light
Attracted by each to a
Curtain call of immortality
Between the stars of heaven
And my heart.
 
© K. James Ribble