Winter Woods

Whispers of ice fall upon my shoulders.
They speak of the heavens, then melt and run their liquid fingers down my back.
My breath leaves me in pillars of fog.
The solitude, the quiet.
I am humbled by this beauty that defies being captured by my net of words.
A sigh of sadness escapes me.
Who will miss this because they fail to take the time to truly live and see?


If you're not living on the edge, you're taking up too much space.