Poems ✍️

Sprays of windglaced ice-dust....freezing mornings dew,
on the fresh needled spruce, immune to autumns wake -
of feral gusts, that sent sprite colour leaf to crusted soil,
while listening to Decembers eerie fife unfurl its chords.

Grass blades errect like soldiers flanked in rank and file,
rigidly still from their full-bodied shells of arctic-armor.
Still, nothing be quite so sweet....as th' Winters overture-
an' its virgin drape of white flake, sweeping o'er hilltops.

Its majesty forcing human breath's cold, fogging smoke,
so pleasuring th' human mind..... with flash-cube image.
Ther'll nev'r be a painting, that captures natures canvass
than, th' feather'd cloak, n' crystal crown of Winterscape.


FjR-MMXVII