Morning walk

Winter litters my way Stale snow, ash in color, A smattering of white, Among the icy clumps, That crunch underfoot, Deadening most sounds On my morning walk; A somber sun joins me Sometimes in January, Ineffective, if it decides To show up at all; Winter’s numbing winds Singe all that’s exposed; Horizon to horizon, Low clouds parade in gray, The color of most days; Within the somberness Lurks a budding thought, Of sweet grass and primrose, Slightly open windows Welcoming sweet breezes, Warming the soul enough On my morning walk.

Sign up to vote on this title
UsefulNot useful