Apr 2015
Fresh cold bite
Fading winter light
Pine swirls on my tongue
as the ice freezes tired lungs
And gusts nip long fingers
a sly bunch of dogs
they howl at
the bright
new
moon.
Fading winter light
Pine swirls on my tongue
as the ice freezes tired lungs
And gusts nip long fingers
a sly bunch of dogs
they howl at
the bright
new
moon.
Nature poem
