Snow Hill at Sunset

After the last swift flakes of snow had sighed A casual frozen sigh and died away, The sun broke through the clouds’ last thawing tide And smiled a little smile half gold, half gray, Then shone again but for a moment only. Then all was gray once more, until beyond The hill a redder sun, far off and lonely, Stared with a steady eye across the pond.

The wind awoke again and stalked around, Stirring the snowfall where it tried to sleep, Then suddenly across that stretch of ground I saw more beauty than my eyes could keep— A hill of snow the color of disaster So red it reached along the frozen day, As though a stand of deer had met its master And in that scarlet moment was dragged away.