Outside.
There's snow.
Covering the hill and the rooftops of the houses.
And I ran and
Pressed my face against the window pane
To feel the coldness on the other side.
The pale afternoon light
And the sky
Not yet dyed the deep red of sunset
Supported the cool wind
Which picked up
Scattered bare branches
And lifted them like feathers
into the cold air.
YOU ARE READING
A Corner of the World
PoetryScenes. Small ones. Scenes that stretch through space and time. And reach your heart From mine.
