Winter’s Cruelty
The cruel wind thrashes at my face
An invisible whip
I am a slave to the cold
Bound by icy shackles
By the frosty, long-fingered hands
Grasping at my ankles
I exhale a cloudy stream
Into the frigid air.
Placing my gloved hands into my pockets
I persist onwards
An unseen weight
Bearing down against my scarred back
I think of the day
When Spring will come
Her mellifluous voice will melt
The callous shrieks of Winter
Her cloak of golden light
Her tears of sweet-smelling rain
Will warm my cold soul
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| Image © Wayne Shipley 2009 |
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