There are birds calling out
into the winter morning,
unafraid of the frigid chill
that still dominates.
A watery sun rises
in slow motion,
an illusion of heat
that will not show up.
But the amber light
folded across the evergreen
breathes life into this frozen place,
a spark of glory, a wing of wonder,
perfectly at home where
ice and birdsong blend.
Leave a Reply
Looking for something in particular?
Explore the archive! Organized for ease by category and year.
Visit the Archive
Add a comment
0 Comments