Aether's
discus
with a
mighty
thrust
thrown
through
sable-
domed
Sky
leaves
Moon's
thinnest
crescent
suspended
a radiant
silver-
edged
coin
caught
in Night's
silk
lining
Venus
bright
lonely
light
cast
into
this
depth
barely
illuminates
arrested
beauty
in winter's
c-c-c-oldest
flight
YOU ARE READING
The Smell of Snow
PoetryFrom my home on a tiny island, I smell snow as it begins to fall on the mountains across Baynes Sound. A smell that goes directly up your nostrils with a slight hint of metal or ozone, a bit like refrigerant. And of course I love to confirm my sense...
