Of Winterscape...
Sprays of windglaced ice-dust...freezes mornings dew,
on the fresh needled spruce, immune to autumns wake
of feral gusts, that turn sprite colours...to crisp, dry leaf;
while listening to December's fifing...of its' winterwinds.
Grass blades stand like soldiers, silent, in rank and file;
rigid and still, from their full-bodied shell, of iced-armor.
Nothing be quite so sweet.....as winters first showcase;
it's virgin drape of white.....sweeping o'er pined hilltops.
Its majesty, forcing human breath's cold, fogging smoke,
and pleasuring the human mind....with flash-cube image.
There will ne're be a more aural catch....of natures stage,
than the crystal cloak, and crown..............of Winterscape.
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
Added by Poetry Lover
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