By : Kat Larson Latyschow

I was beckoned by Winter’s Great Theatre,
Her quick change of scene,
First, bitter biting winds brought violent swirling skies,
Then soft blanketed bins
weighed conifers that sighed.
I desired solitude, a quiet inner sanctum,
A quick change of scene,
So I forgot new trails in the path that I knew,
Crushing and hollowing
the storms bright residue.
Me eyes dazzled as the light played for act two,
Tiny mirrors evoking a scene ,
A cloak sparkling and twinkling her new attire
Then… still
I was isolated and surrounded by Winter’s chill
Ancient pines towering, paused to be seen,
Bent heavy with the burden of their icy mounds,
Like the solemn song of whispering hounds…..
ssssssssssssssssssssssswwwwhhhhhhhhhooooooooooooooo
Just only then-
My mind was still
As the wind she blew……….