Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

a squirrel runs across frosty evening on a plain of white carrying a cosy warmth i would love to have light greyish coat impeecably patched and stitched for the season time runs across space mindless as a clock which has forgotten to crawl everywhere the trees gently whisper sweet nothings and cavort away the evening baring skeletons and bones (or heart and soul) to the heavens to swear their love snow falls like mannas onto a million stretched hands that grovel to receive every trace of divine providence breathless, breathless the white glides and bounces in an evening that holds onto everything like forgotten time