a down of cold
the softest
kind of sorrow
It Is Felt
Blushed With Cold
edges
articulated
by frost
The Cold Still Bites
the river is running
but winter still
keeps her teeth out
Sunset In New Snow
the world
freshly brightened
with a lacquer of cold
Cold Trees
even the trees
shiver when
it gets below zero
Warmth
the air now crisped with cold
some leaves still hold color
they warm my shivering heart
The Approach
off in the distance
winter is a train loaded with cold
closing the miles between us
Settling On, Settling In
the river still runs
but the cold has dug
its fingers in the ground
The Waterfall In Winter
some of you
never make the full descent
balanced instead on a high wire of cold
Teaspoon Of Cold
the seasoned season
leaves measuring out
winter’s ingredients
Protection
barrier to cold
a bowl to hold the sun
oak leaves holding on to green
The Woods Still Hold Snow
winter’s grip
of blue cold
loosened by fern fronds
Winter Is A Spider
weaving with cold
leaving an icy web
to catch the days upon
Vacillating Temperatures
winter wavers warm and cold
mimicking the wobble
of the old garden fence
Winter’s Wandering Path
a smidge of snow
the glittering cold
many storms still to go
The Particular Disposition Of Winter
a storm assembles
in the woods
the weight and shape of cold
To Everything Its Counterpart
winter’s shadows
blue with cold
disputed by the sky
Small And Sharp Like Puppy Teeth
the cold
has just begun
to nibble at the world
Wearing The Blush Of Cold
succulent roses
tenacious as barnacles
cling to the end of autumn
To The Hydrangea
cold
is a kind
of coloring stick
Snow On The Horizon
the sky and trees
both thinned
by cold
Flames Of The Night Sky
despite
the arctic cold
the sky is ablaze
Visions
miniature world
on the window pane
cold grows a forest
Winter Travels
the current
not yet submerged
cold holds on
taking the ride
Lacemaking
the wind wove
threads of cold
through the woods
Winter Illustration
cold highlights
the edge
of everything
Thoughts On The Window
winter exhales
constructing dandelions
made of cold hope
We Don’t Need Any Mittens
but yes it is
cold enough
for coats
I Awoke At The Ocean
sand dollars gathered
on the shoreline
of cold
Embracing Mystery
the morning
shrouded
in mystical cold