Winter

The high-wires on telephone poles are covered in sleepy snow; the passing electricity moves through them quietly and slow - A bird upon a limb alone sits motionless without a song; awaiting just one more snowflake to fall the last leaf reverently refuses to be gone - Clouds above it all linger in a mist as if the chilled breath of loves last kiss; darkness, gazes down upon the earth wrapped in a blanket of bitter coldness - Natures annual treason found in this the final season; to glorify Spring must be it's true purpose, and reason -