poem written based upon this image--an online poetry class assignment
The winter storm rolled in with iron skies, yet through its roar a pulse of hope stayed bright. Green leaves, long fallen, seemed again to rise as wind revived their memory in flight. I held my life like currency in hand~ each choice a coin I’d saved against the cold. The storm swept through, reshaping what I planned, yet left behind a worth I’d never told. Snow hammered fields, but still a faint green glow clung to the edges where the frost gave way. It whispered that the heart can overflow even when storms turn daylight into gray. And so, through winter’s rage, I learned to see how hope can rise—my richest currency.
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