The Snow

On this past Friday morning, snow fell, softly, slowly. More is on its, a possible blizzard, a probable blizzard.

I’d prefer a deep, gentle snow. We’ll see.

Related image

The Snow

Each flake, with ragged edge,
tears the still, dark air
into ribbons,
as keen blades through flesh,
leaving night tangled,
strips of tattered cloth,
on morning’s cold meadow
.

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8 thoughts on “The Snow

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