Bathing In the Winter Sun
Wind brings a gust of icy chills
blowing freely in open fields and barren trees,
brisk and cold temperatures freeze the spirit
but not once deters the soul
sequestered and hidden from the rays of the sun;
but no creature can hide forever
momentary madness calls them to the light,
and in the piled leaves creatures flutter
rustling and scratching the frozen earth
to nestle deep into the bath of crackled crunch;
a susurrate cry rises in the embracing warm
of faint faded rays to bathe in the winter sun.
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