aftermath

the overriding mass of warm, moist air
produces rain that freezes on contact
a wonderland in crystal armor fair
each twig a prism in which light refracts
a static glory, stilllife set in glass
but wind and gravity are twin landmines
bare trees were not designed for so much mass
and some will crash down on our powerlines
perspective tints our view of such a scene
a landlord waiting for maintenance crews
might feel the splendid landscape not as keen
as transients without a stake to lose
what's Truth? what's Beauty? it's so hard to say
so much looks different each passing day