sun kissed moon caressed
beautiful angels of snow
winter’s excellence
Explore:
a poet's playground
More from the playground:
the verge
on edge
does one enter
the darkened glen
at dusk
knowingly that night
will soon follow
that the moon’s light won’t filter
through the limbs
the ground
hard and cold
will not comfort
night sounds
will louden
while one’s voice
will silence
courage