Winter walks beside me,
kisses my skin with frozen lips,
paves my path with ice,
whispers snowflakes,
tells me spring is dead.

Leafless trees scratch a molten sky.
A pale sun caught in gnarly branches
bleeds into the ground,
seeps to the roots of comatose trees.
Spring stirs, winter lied.



@Cristina Umpfenbach-Smyth  2011