Winter

Winter,
Spat like a curse from cold, cracked lips,
To freeze upon the sidewalk underfoot.

Winter,
Like a breath from the primordial past,
When glaciers sluggishly gouged the land.

Winter,
The faint of heart weep at Her name,
Their cries fall upon deaf ears.

Winter,
She bites and claws, chilling the veins,
To remind us that we are alive.

Winter,
Give Her cold respect!
For Her eyes look upon us,
From the depths of aeons long past.

Photo Credit

Microsoft Office Clipart Collection

Guest Author Bio

Marshall McCarthy
Marshall is an aspiring novelist and writer, who stops by to offer his thoughts, opinions and musings, hoping to share and even gain a little bit of perspective. He is married (to a wonderful woman), lives in South Central Ontario and may or may not have a small addiction to video games.

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