Winter
serpents
writhing
high in
snow
white ice
and
bark.
The
trees in
turn,
to touch
the
sky and
twist
through
winter’s
grasp.
A
forest full
of
dark and light;
of
branch and twig
and
sky, where
trunks
will turn
and
parody
all
that
the
season asks.
No comments:
Post a Comment