Winter Hues

Glossy on the snow-washed street,
winter continues
the sky is of rolling clouds, a thousand shades that range
from abalone to stone
as beech trees cry their last tears in the half-morning light—
here hope is ash coloured
yet the darkling sits, unperturbed;
and I wonder, if the snow loves it dearly?
I don’t have the slightest inkling about what happened
to my heart,
how it healed,
four-chambered muscular organ that sings: cardinal red
and emotionally scarred.
Perhaps, it too is aware of mournful lyrics,
of how everything goes around,
of how it’s conducted.
I kissed the lips of the cold surrounding me,
              qualms blurred.

If winter can be formidable then why can’t we?



Photo credits: Trisha Adams, Winter Color Series 12″x6″ oil, Pinterest

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Posted for Poetics: Connections @ dVerse Poets Pub