Grip of Winter
Winter decided to get a grip
on the prairie plains
he blew in from the north
dropping from the pole
he hung his coat of white
and froze all in sight
he blew white mist
his breath was ice
all he touched
layered
covered in frost
south wind beckoned
he remained firm
he would not lose his power
cold and forceful he remained.
Copyright © Phyllis Babcock | Year Posted 2019
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