Winter’s Still Song

(after hearing Morten Lauridsen’s Magnum Mysterium at a friend’s Wedding)

The hush falls

like soft-feathered snow,

as light takes its leave.


Clamoring thoughts,

like tired children

spent from running

in delirious circles,

take a final spin,

then collapse,

asleep in a pile.


Our Mother, full of stars,

reaches up her gentle

hand to switch on

the crescent moon.

Its sparse light

trails to earth

like a bridal train

and lays like lace upon

the snow-covered ground.


Now, finally,

cloaked in quiet

there is a clearing

not already occupied

by thought

where we are stilled by song

and become

the sweet capture

of two delicate voices

entwined like dancers

turning in the air,


arching heavenward.



hanging in the air,

like crystals on a

snow-laden tree:

what rough straw

would have whispered

from the manger.

Tamara Nicholl-Smith’s poetry has been featured on two Albuquerque city bus panels, one parking meter, numerous radio shows, a spoken-word classical piano fusion CD, and in several publications, including the Mutablis Press anthology Enchantment of the Ordinary, Kyoto Journal Issue 95, The Examined Life Journal Issue 8, and Catholic Arts Today. She is currently pursuing an MFA in Creative Writing at the University of Saint Thomas in Houston. She enjoys puns and likes her bourbon neat.

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