When Love Meets Cold

When Love meets cold, it does not roll itself in brash, grey wool to cry; it gathers like the sky, folds itself around our dust, and falls— a hundred—thousand—million—times— in feathery diamonds all around us, making shining glory of the weathered ground.

White Blankets

O the coldness of the world that bundles up with blankets white and sparkling and sharp as water-frost while all of nature sleeps! – – – Photo by Simon Berger on Unsplash

Startled Snow

A boot’s free-fall crunch! Swiftly from the evergreen a red cardinal hops.

Pineapple Smoothie

Twist of fruity sweetness zaz. Tropic, frothing, cold, smoothed its way aloha-ly so treat, so sweet, so bold. – – – Photo by Işıl: https://www.pexels.com

Spring Cold

Life blows blurry bleary and a fog, ripped dripping fliffing on a hot cup tea held, coughing in my words and sniffling scratchy in my throat like blanket wrapped all ‘round shoulders as, clearing throat, shiver in the summer weather. – I hate colds. – – – Photo by Lisa Hobbs on Unsplash

Wait for the Morning

He always rises like the sun after night— after the hours, played like years, the coldness, hurting and hardening, the darkness, stealing the light like dementia. Do not let the fiercest night take you for God will rise to blaze above the frosted hills and scatter magic across the diamond grass.