Nature's Gentle Conspiracy

The stillness of the frigid winter air is fractured,
   like ice crashing to the ground off a slate roof.
My footsteps mar the sight and sound of a pristine world,
   the rhythmic crunching of snow is nature's reproof.

Clouds of vapor hang heavy as I labor to walk,
   nature's deep carpet sucks greedily at my boots.
Yet onward I trudge, breathing deep of fragrant firs,
   searching for that perfect symbol of holiday's pursuit.

Tensions within rise as Christmas approaches
   so often a rejection of good by the confused.
The hustle and bustle of holiday preparations
   belies nature's gentle spirit of peace infused.

I pause, breathing deep of nature's sweet baum
   as the world's pressures slowly melt away.
My search is fulfilled in the pure and simple reality
   of a balance reached between an unbridled world and nature's ballet.

The sweet conspiracy I fear is naught but in my mind,
   a world intent upon beating me down.
The tree long sought is just a fleeting badge,
   nature's unfeigned sincerity--the true meaning of Christmas renown.

A free verse with rhyme chaser written for the

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