Dec 2014
Wandering drafts, sly
Whisper in our ears
Shake the roots of our spines
We bury our heads for cold
Scanning the sky
For signs of dainty, floating crystals
Fluttering to the ground
In a hazy blue
Yet frost has frozen our pens
And there is blankness
The horizon is an empty tomb
Snow will liberate our words
The land is as desolate
As our papers
Both hesitating to speak
Some language of beauty
Whisper in our ears
Shake the roots of our spines
We bury our heads for cold
Scanning the sky
For signs of dainty, floating crystals
Fluttering to the ground
In a hazy blue
Yet frost has frozen our pens
And there is blankness
The horizon is an empty tomb
Snow will liberate our words
The land is as desolate
As our papers
Both hesitating to speak
Some language of beauty
Writing exercise to fend off the chilly blankness. About snow//expressing writer's block//written in plural first person. Actually wrote this in summer though. Idk.
