Snow flakes drift by,
washing the world white.
Cold drips down my neck,
scarf scratching,
steps slipping,
breath billows in small clouds,
miniature factories.
Trudge through the flakes
filling the sky,
painting a picture of
a world wiped clean.
Join 18.2K other subscribers
Come visit my Facebook page. Snippets of the current novel-in-progress show up there for your amusement.
Thanks for coming by!
- 473,071 visitors so far. Welcome back again soon!
Categories
- Alpha-biography
- anecdotes
- book reviews
- Commentary
- Friendship
- fun
- Grace Awakening
- Grace Awakening Myth
- Grace Beguiling – Petrarch
- Harp
- Literature
- Monday Meme
- Murdering Mr. Edwards
- Mythology
- narrative
- OUTLANDERishness
- poem
- Poetry
- Pondering
- poodles
- projects
- Quotations
- Reading
- Recipes
- Rotary
- Rotary invocations
- Teaching
- Uncategorized
- video
- Writing
Shawn L. Bird 
Makes the cold sound enchanting, lovely use of words.
Imagining such a whiteness to the landscape from winter’s first big snow!
“breath billows in small clouds,
miniature factories.”
Gorgeous imagery. Lovely poem.
Thank you, and thanks for stopping by and taking time to comment!
Superb