Millard Lowe Poet Prose Poetry

Winter's High Noon Tease

Winter’s High Noon Tease

Shinning in regal glory,
the heat of the sun was cooled down
by misty winds sneaking through
and passing around
outstretched arms
of naked winter trees—leaves gone 
to who knows where.

Stunned by it all, we stood there;
goose bumped and shivering.
The trees also stood there—stone faces
of leafless wooden skeletons—
mocking a juxtaposed purgatorial
moment in nature.

Cold, confused and conquered,
we wrapped the remaining warmth
of our chilled, chided challenge
in woven scarves of defeat;
and with great urgency, we scurried inside:
seeking our homemade heat.

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