As soft mist lingers white over waters
starched by the cold hand of frost,
a bird's wing snaps the silenced air;
a grave mark on the horizon.
A willow weeps for its branches
trapped beneath the frozen pond,
caught unawares as winter creped
in a windless night-time lull.
And in the darkened hush,
Winter's breath blew cold the scorched leaves
brittle from the distant summer heat,
as ripe and red as berries.
In woodland shamed naked by an iron chill,
creatures live, breathe and beat,
backs turned, eyes closed
to brace the arctic bite.
A tree branch, severed, cracks.
Grey clouds a solemn smudge
on a pink and purple sky,
beckons a white hell of flakes and flurries
and drifts, to shackle nature in its frozen grasp.
Underneath rimy rooftops,
faces pressed against cold glass
misted by warm breath,
await the first sign of Winter's torment.
A single flake met by giant smiles.
6 years ago