Saturday, March 17, 2007
Winter crept
through the whispering woods,
hushing the fir and oak;
crushed each leaf and froze each web
but never a word he spoke.
Winter prowled
by the shivering sea
lifting sand and stone
nipped each limpet silently
and then moved on.
Winter raced
down the frozen stream
catching at his breath;
on his lips were icicles,
at his back was death.
Jydith nicholls
