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.
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 7:15 PM UTC
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.
Nature poem
