Winters Wind
So bashful to the wind the day sets at bay
recollecting the past of the stilled clay,
mounded mind distract the dew
observing the mountains in the view,
combusting in it's self the rain flaws
cold winter winds build it's claws,
to tangle the day amoung the clear
just to await what could be coming near,
golden spokes of torned day
breaks the path of wilted frey.
Copyright © Donna Shropshire Caviness | Year Posted 2012
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