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EMBALMED IN WINTER

I love the winter, its silent cloak
thrown over thoughts, and time,
it's white whispers whistle through my hair,
blown flakes like butterflies spin
to make me blind,
no depth, just void.

It's voice, an echo of the night,
it's light gives cold it's bite,
as seagulls fly in gusts,
the trees, they bow.

We brave the elements,
reach out to catch the staff
stumble through great mounds
of crystals, sharp,
strive to reach the fire.

While skies go from blue to grey,
tinted in the morning,
soft slippered ice slips in
to sooth, to sing the psalm,
the roots of trees embalm.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Last few words: 
Yet another wistful Winter poem, the sky ever changing it's pastel freeze, three weeks of sun on it and the snow has almost gone, so hot the day, so cold the nights.
Editing stage: 

Comments

Your beautifully descriptive lines conjour up so many pictures and thoughts of winter, i have just walked my dogs and your words are exactly as it is this morning. ps But without the snow LOL . Regards Roscoe..

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

How lovely it is to have the excuse of taking the dog for a walk,
when the dog we had, had to be put down, I so missed the mornings
and the evenings, so much of the atmosphere of space, the space
around us and within us seems to grow wider.

Thank you Roscoe,
Love from Ann.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

author comment

I really love to read about nature and you've just made this an enjoyable read though you've call it wistful.
I see each stanza as can stand by itself for a poem. I can't find any major changes to add to or suggest but I would not capitalize every letter in the title which is too minor as you see.

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

Follow me
www.instgram.com/rularules1

Rula I use the capitals just here in order to see my poems clearly
when opening the site, we oldies do funny things sometimes, maybe?

Thank you otherwise for the comment dear Rula,
Love Ann.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

author comment

only dog lovers love
as walks cannot be excused
dogs must go....
we all know

and your naturalism of poetry
how so ever wintry
does beautifully flow..

loved

Thank you for you nice comment too,

Ann.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

author comment

to be blessed by you
as you teach silently too
and

no poet I am
i know
you alone knew
so i must thank you too

loved

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