Season of White

 

A Poem for Winter

Crushed beneath my feet, blue and crisp
Wild cold piercing my happy lungs
Peace of time stood still enshrouds me
All is calm, all is bright, all is at rest

Trees stand, arms laden with blankets of white
Skies roll grey, pillowing the ground
The earth breathes deep and closes its eyes
All is calm, all is bright, all is at rest

Burnt red wing of an intrepid flyer
Harsh against the muted world
Blood on bone, gentle and real
All is calm, all is bright, all is at rest

Numb with cold, glowing cherry fingertips
Encircle liquid heat and fragrant steam
Chasing the lingering scent of pine
All is calm, all is bright, all is at rest