Season of Instances
Aching cold in swirling grey,
damp, wet, sharp within the freeze.
The loud retort of battering winds.
But then the silence...
a soundless crystal expanse.
The timeless, endless halt
of all things storm and damage.
A pristine genisis emerges
on the knife -edge of the instant.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
