Narnia in My Front Yard 

It was long ago that my Father installed a lamppost far away from our house in an unusual location. Pulling back my blinds tonight, I see that a drifty field of snow has built around its black base. Trees glazed in ice line the backdrop like sacred guardians watching over the private silence settling on this place. Heavy flakes dance soft and intermittent through still and windless night air, changing our welcoming light-guide to unnatural visitor. Each cold crystal becomes the dust of magic as it falls upon a yard of canvass framed by endless woods. Still, our lamppost stands steadfast: The last trace of a civilization overtaken by a frozen desert.

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