Witch hazel, plumed with silent snow
Beckoned her shed residue of woe —
Wistfully, she glanced past her cabin
Urging sleet and ice not grind the street.
His words warmed her round December
As though an elixir of primrose blue —
‘Though days be blend of pain and bliss
know love be light in darkest of abyss.’

 

 

Photo credits: “Snow Birthed Tales”, by Jenny Leslie

Posted on Sunday Mini Challenge @ Real Toads

and posted on the Poetry Pantry @ Poets United