Snow flakes sigh through the winter sky
Like the down of absent geese
In innocent sleep, they fall, peaceful and deep
On the breast of The Mighty Peace
The amber rays, of a low sun play
Through a grove of naked birch
The shadows of their limbs stretch thin as the hymns
That haunt an abandoned church
A hesitant doe sniffs the virgin snow
And scrapes at the frozen sod
Then she turns an ear as though she can hear
The casual humming of God
Crystal clouds lift from a silver drift
On the winter's tentative breath
They swirl and shift, in a smoky mist
As light as the Angel of Death
The cold winter night holds an opal moon's light
In the arms of a tightening vise
And with every turn sets the skies to burn
With a fire that crackles like ice
Even brave men cower from the arctic night's power
For it makes them feel weak and alone
So they stare at a flame, to consider their shame
And the cold in each sinew and bone
When the North wind crawls up the trembling walls
Her aria is piercing and wild
Then the trapper's hound hugs the stone cold ground
And wails like an agonized child
Beneath the painful brilliance of a clear sky's pavilion.
The Ghosts of the Peace Country sing.
In the shimmering gleam of a crystal dream
They carol the promise of Spring
Though the winter cold can buffet the soul
'Til we covet a season's release
The will to survive, and the courage to strive
Accompany the Songs of The Peace