Saturday, January 7, 2012

a winter poem


I miss thee, winter
the smoke mist
that comes from warm lungs
the crunch of frozen snow
the magic
that seems to come from
painting nature white
the imagery that it makes
the thousands for tiny prisms
that ice crystals make
as the sun light glints on them
the smile of greeting a stranger
who also loves this display
it seems
has taken a holiday
of late
I enjoy getting my Blonde
to go out & about with me
more readily
however I do miss thee
hope we get some time to play together
before you must move to
your "summer hide out"
or is it your get away?
by b.e. noll

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