there are some mornings . it would be nice if the world . had a pause button
before the sunrise . the trees whisper quietly . in their silhouette
last summer’s flowers . hold onto fresh fallen snow . but only for now
nothing says comfort quite like cold, hard surfaces on a winter day
a snow-filled chaos . focuses thoughts and actions . mindful of each step
the path is the guide . the figure in the distance . is just walking it
the silence unheard . in the middle of the night . is likely nothing
gifts can be quiet – . maybe a decoration . that lights a cold night
as the winter winds . rattle the windows, the cat . tucks in for a nap
unable to see . through the ice-covered window . it becomes the view