There is a piercing quality to
it; bringing both
clarity and
threat.
Mislabeled as blankets, pillows, and soft
hills of white, freezing is always
an afterthought; too late once the
digits have gone
black and
blue.
The possibility of frostbite in
the silent-scape of twilit sundry.
Snow rises to
contradict its cliches.
Floating flakes are
pushed along a current, as the
breath of the God(ess) exhales.
Nostalgia covers the truth of
Winter’s harsh Nature as
songs and poems
romanticize what was once
humanity’s greatest nightmare:
the cold and the
lonely dark.
by Erik Shinker
It even LOOKS fantastic!
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I like this poem very much!
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