Nocturnal traveller
listen well to the frigid
still air, but pause not.
Ancient frigid moon
remaining well past the dawn
seeks the sun’s warmth too.
The skeleton trees,
stone-like earth…. is this garden
where the crocus bloom?
Wet sunless morning
even my frozen willow
seems that much sadder.
Fluttering crystals
blanketing my frozen fields
in perfect stillness.
Rising whiffs of steam
vanishing against the sky….
frigid city rain.
Floating softly down
fine misty droplets…. bathing
the empty branches.
Above the stone trees
hangs the magic moon freezing
this moment in time.
Oh such a shame that
this twilight’s skies could not stay
to grace us longer.
Crystal sun and the
palette sky’s refreshing scent
say: winter’s pregnant.
The wind-blown crystals
frolic in their icy dance
in brilliant sunlight.
As I rose at dawn
my frosted window revealed
glaze upon my pond.
Glass trees in sunlight….
from every branch dripping tears
of winter’s farewell.
