Was There A Wind? Tap... Tap... Night Pads Upon The Snow With Moccasined Feet... And It Is Still... So Still... An Eagle'S Feather Might Fall Like A Stone. Could There Have Been A Storm... Mad-Tossing Golden Mane On The Neck Of The Wind... Tearing Up The Sky... Loose-Flapping Like A Tent About The Ice-Capped Stars? Cool, Sheer And Motionless The Frosted Pines Are Jeweled With A Million Flaming Points That Fling Their Beauty Up In Long White Sheaves Till They Catch Hands With Stars. Could There Have Been A Wind That Haled Them By The Hair.... And Blinding Blue-Forked Flowers Of The Lightning In Their Leaves? Tap... Tap... Slow-Ticking Centuries... Soft As Bare Feet Upon The Snow... Faint... Lulling As Heard Rain Upon Heaped Leaves.... Silence Builds Her Wall About A Dream Impaled.