I Sit Alone With Winter

I sit alone with winter, wondering what calls the arctic breeze to wandering seducing, as it passes, everything a silence only falling snow can bring Ponder the dormant river ‘neath the ice entrapped within its shorelines crushing vise thinning shadows of geese who rolled the dice feathers ruffling as wind exacts its price. Faint clinking sounds of skeletal White Birch thin ghosts of Christmas past in endless search for meaning in this empty, frozen church its congregation fled from swaying perch. My presence decorates this Winter scene a misplaced bulb upon an evergreen. John G. Lawless ©12/14/2018