Winter
There’s a quiet sadness overlooking winter’s icy pond
The trees are sleeping in their frozen pajamas
The sky is grey, low and unforgiving, motionless and cold. On a twig the little bird with his puffed up feathers waiting patiently for the stillness of time to move again.
The warm sun tucked away in winter’s back pocket, hidden from us for the moment, perhaps longer. Nature’s colors stored away in winter’s closet, greens, reds, yellows, all put away for now, only white, the absence of color.
Winter’s decoration, the landscape in her hands. Soft fluffy snowflakes gently drifting into a misty fog, hazy greys floating over a frozen pond. Her vision, her design, hopefully submitted for your consideration.
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.
