FOUR MEN

 

I see men

Walking

In the cold

Coming closer to my home.

Snow swirls around them.

Feet crunch on ice.

Four of them.

Why are they here?

Four men.

The window mists from my breath.

It fogs my view.

I must run.

I must hide.

Four men.

 

ICY COLD

Ice Fire

Cold.

Icy cold.

My toes feel numb.

My fingers tingle.

The wind howls.

Sleep tempts me.

But I must continue

To the top of the hill.

The view waits for me.

Only a few more steps.

Silence wraps its arms around me.

I raise my face to the beauty.

The colors take my breath away.

I WELCOME THEE

 

 

Clean me.

Snow on me.

Wet my hair.

Fall on my eyelids.

Drench my body.

Whiten the streets.

I welcome thee

into my heart and soul.

IT’S THE SEASON

 

 

IT’S THE SEASON

The petals fall fast and furious.

The bare trees watch the fallen.

Limbs shivering in the coming cold.

Pink tears of surrender coat the ground.

As seasons come and go.

Yearning for their lost children.

They lift scraggly arms to the sky.

Prayers will soon be answered,

As seasons come and go.

Coats of white land on their branches.

Night falling all too soon.

Shivers dislodge the packed ice.

Leaving them bare once again.

They lift weary eyes to the sky.

As seasons come and go.

A warm wind caresses their arms.

Eyes open to sprouting buds.

Green and pink sweaters for spring.

Their children have returned.

As seasons come and go.

 

AN ARTIST’S PALETTE

 

 

AN ARTIST’S PALETTE

 

Nature leaves an artist’s imprint

on all that it reaches.

Waves of the ocean can appear

in the coldest reaches.

Nature’s colorful palette

extends from the sky to beaches.

We might try to copy nature’s soft stroke,

but we must listen to what it teaches.

THE ICE HOUSE

 

 

 

The dance floor is full.

The guests twirl between statues.

Sad expressions etched into faces.

Tears flow down frosty cheeks.

An undercurrent of evil lies

beneath the music and gaiety.

Time to leave the perfect guests

and the frozen smiles.

Time to escape if one can.

THE DEAD GAME