there are better ways to describe winter.
there are better ways to describe a storm.
it's so still,
and the temperature makes a good weighted chilling step. It takes time to get there. The day is filtered grey, clouds are dense and trudge across the sky with patience.
I do like the wait of winter.
It's stillness
It's slumber.
Not tiring
but in the way one wakes from a dream
similar to hitting shockingly brisk air
A pause, a recollection of senses, a sharp inhale of breath.
And a movement slower, and more cautious than before
I'm awake in the cold
-
Winter nights are the best, they last forever.
YOU ARE READING
Untitled Anthology for the 20 somethings
PoetryMoulding myself into something I'm not. a love letter to all the sweetly gorey things and afflictions that are a part of being a young adult like love, insecurities and vulnerability in 15 parts. Image: "Connected, Communicating" Noah Kocher.
