Cart Wheeling Crystals
Snow flakes
Tapping glass
One by one,
Scraping silence
From the pane of autumn’s stare
Where they gather
In mute reflections,
Like moths to a flame
Blustering into chaotic rhythm
White upon light,
Cart-wheeling crystals
Frozen in free
Falling eddies now
Gathering upon a wind,
In violent whiteout
As a fire stares
Back from beyond the hearth
A sentinel
Of warmth bearing
Witness to fair warning
From an army of
Snow
Copyright © Mark Trichet | Year Posted 2014
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