April 29, 2014


I lie in the middle of the bed, 
listening to the storm outside. 
The hushed murmur of blowing snow, swirling at midnight.
 The bluish white light covers the walls 
and there is no moon in sight. 
Too much snow that comes in heavy  like ocean waves again. 
Boughs of tress bent heavy with snow, 
still bending and creaking furiously in the wind.
A clean and white coldness outside.
The stark outline of dark, bare trees.
Streetlamps forcing light through the gloom,
shadows of the laced, winter webbing
 crocheted pattern of trees.

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