Snowstorm

0
288
Photo courtesy of Pixabay.

come winter does return to unmade each division —

landscape whitewashed to pathless and grid

lines undermined to uniting in harsh gusts in maybe

gentle crystals — what can release footsteps from follow

the ontrodden saltways / from buildings of edges all rounded

under wind-licks in dance-drift to dirt gone soft-grounded

beneath million-pound stormclouds in balance on precarious —

into avalanche into flurryfall into gusts into swirls into

mouth-steaming turbulence gone formless so unendable /

while wind with whipped snowfroth from topsy snowdrift sleepcloth

spreads salt-torn in covers to earth muddy slumber

through old cradle dreams under lullaby thunder.

LEAVE A REPLY

Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here