Her Icy Domain
Underfoot, the snapping sound
of frozen leaves
curse Winter's name;
as my frosty footsteps
reduce them to memories.
Fluffy flakes of virgin snow
morph into swarms of ice pellets;
biting and stinging,
like an infestation of angry ants.
A wanton wind, like a jilted bride;
slaps my face with a vengeful hand.
Autumn is stripped of its color:
leaving skeletal trees naked, shivering in the wind.
And I feel the brunt of Winter's wrath
descend: as She lays claim to Her icy domain.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2020
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