September 2010
1 post
Winter
Winter Winter approaches on tip-toe Half walking, half waltzing Her fingertips brushing the branches With silver and light. Hers is a fickle friendship; She turns fierce when she feels so; But today, she is sweet, Silent, and a little sad. I watch her move among the shadows In the autumn wind, An apparition of some long-gone snow, And I, breathless, am caught up in her breath. Soon she will...
