Winter Wind


The winter wind wiped across the flat
Brown soil.
Spiraling up circles of dust
That spun in the weak sunlight.
Crackling sounds of moving
Ice came from the river
As it moved ever so slowly.
Impeded by the cold and length
Of a long winter over staying
Its time upon the frozen banks.
A few stout, brown leaves
Hung with tiny clenched fists
Upon the upper branches
Of ridged, frost covered trees.
That only dimly remembered
The bright, warm summer sun
That now hung low
In the northern sky.

Wisps of wind
Scattered frozen crystals
That Danced upon points
Of light across the stiff fields
Only to find refuge
In dark crevices
Of cracked Mother Earth.

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