words skip-dancing through my head
Winter's Confection
mud puddles in the middle of the road
a squashed, petrified toad
leaves from last autumn's fall
slush, the bane of us all
grime against window panes
cracks in the mortar's vein
ivy, brown clinging before death
deserted sticks of baby's breath
naked trees shiver and quake
squirrels gather nuts to take
people chilled and in a rush
cardinals calls are now hushed
skies gray, heavy in birth
flakes falling from heaven to earth
covering the sadness with purity
an ocean of white, a wintery sea.
Poetry by Kathy Lockhart
Read 1005 times
Editors' choice
Written on 2011-01-03 at 00:01
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