A pointed trail of aftersmoke,
Pierced the deep serene,
It thundered past the ears, belated,
crashed into the evergreen.
The fractal tips and mossy leaves
Huddled and pulled in close,
Amid the constant interruption
Resumed their ancient pose.
The virgin snow along the slopes
Now tracked in trails of grey,
You cannot tell from whence they came,
Or where the ending lay.
The jagged roots and rocky ground,
Held from the surface by a thread
Of cracking slippery blackened ice
Throughout the forest spread.
Now hear the giggles in the air,
As they wave their angels in the snow
As the sun sets redly swallowed,
By the city down below.