White Nights and Pale Days

It is a dimly lit January night
the fast winds, they cease to blow;
the misty streets are all forsaken
the flaring gas lamps are aglow.

The fallen flakes are softly glinting,
the full moon has an ivory sheen -
wafts of snow spiral in the air   
in a frost-bitten winter scene.

Slowly, the snow is mounting 
it has blocked all cobbled paths;
dear God, let all old souls survive
this savage winter's wrath.

All seems quiet and abandoned,
 bare branches too much to bear -
the sight of a bright bold orange leaf -
A defiance?  An act of dare?

Craggy ice slabs float on rivers,
no soul wanders around town;
the brilliant hues of white, blue, grey 
are found on a snow queen's gown. 

And still the birds are chirping,
their imprints are seen on snow;
the pale white sun shining on
will light our spirits aglow.