Nostalgia, in the water

Shadows sculpt frozen daggers that hang over home’s front porch, in wait,
The Sun, ancient and naive, helps a slippery black death expand its borders,
Night progresses, innocent waters are rigidly bound, their free will oppressed by
the cold,
All of this, from a day’s beautiful snowfall.

Errant rays of light paint monochromatic bands onto canvas; a dynamic, fluid prism,
The Moon, dull yet wondrous, elegantly reflects the mark of its fiery life-giver into a puddle,
Where life is there and it is not, a random dance of microflora and fauna, invisible yet possible
with warmth,
All of this, from a night’s dreary rainstorm.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: