Sitting on a rock in the cold sun. The wind comes up from the sparkling river and whispers of a future spring. There is yet a core of warmth in the twisting wind, a hope of dog starred August days. Winter has for a moment lost the thread, Lady frost is searching for clear moonlight,… Continue reading Promises of spring.
Tag: Winter
Dreary Winter
Now in the midst of dreary winter, while the hills wear their white mantles, I sense a withering of will, and a drying up of muscle. When buds burst into leaves, I also break out in motion, powering against the rusted pedals, to rush down that path of leaves; rustling. . Wintry winds tear at… Continue reading Dreary Winter