More snow
I whisper
as I wait for flakes
to fall
and yet
it still
does not come
and my longing
for crisp air
and muffled sounds
of boots
through white
remain
Cold mornings
dawn dark
with delicate drops
melting
between pine needles
and snow crunching
under foot
as frigid temps
promise
to warm
at least enough
to let ice melt
and snow drip
from branches
and eaves.
The peace is
delicate
like blades of grass
and dried twigs
as air
ripples over water
wings fold
and I stand
still as a statue
to watch
silently
as the world
moves on
around me
while I wait
The universe
is made up of
worlds within worlds
within worlds
and each ignored
by the one above it
forsaken
but for by a small few
that take the time
to lean down
and dirty their knees
to see what others
have forgotten
even exists