For the I Form - Imagism Poetry Contest of Constance La France
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“The snow did not even whisper its way to earth, but seemed to salt the night with silence.” — Dean Koontz Inhaling quietude, I watch glistening pearls swirling in twilight’s sky. The silence deepens as winter softly creeps into the night beneath a canopy of sparkling stars and the glow of a full pearlescent moon. I fall into slumberland, knowing when I wake, the gray barrenness of the land shall be effaced - replaced by a velvet quilt of white which winter so pristinely has laid down.
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