Soft is the drift outside my window,
flaky and spread across the horizon,
I could watch the glaze for hours,
the night sky lighting up my path
I wonder sometimes when it rains
what happens to the natural beauty
of a fresh snowfall in middle winter.
The top glazes over as the winds
settle the drops upon a fresh snow,
ice sheaths begin to grow across
the lawns, and everything is crisp.
I wonder sometimes if it is the rain
or is it my own inability to find gain.
© Scott F Savage 9/2021
 | a quiet man on Haiku Love |
 | Yernasia Quorelios on Haiku Love |
| a quiet man on I Took A Walk |
 | Priti on I Took A Walk |
| Priti on I Took A Walk |
Turning trauma into triumph since 1981.
Sometimes writing poems let's me forget about the huge sums of debt I'm accumulating while at college
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