Winter
Cold air rushes,
Chilling bones,
Biting bare skin
Left exposed
Icy blanket,
Scattered wide,
Calmly covers,
Ground and sky
Frigid fingers,
Make their mark
On sparkling canvas,
Smooth and stark
Howling winds
Bring powder soft,
Consuming all
In seas of frost
Floating pearls
So blinding white
Swirl and fall,
Obscuring sight
Ashen treasure
Crisp and cold –
Hand of winter
Taking hold.
Copyright © Nick Ruff | Year Posted 2008
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