Winter Mind Trip
Monstrous winds toss the trees
Their twigs clatter like old bones
And a small dark figure huddles in a corner;
Curled against the stones.
Scarfed up to the eyes, it waits for the wind to pass
Knowing that the gust can’t last.
Waits for that chill, still moment when it can walk unblown.
All the flowers of summer
Have turned to paper
And blown away
On a cruel swirl of this windy day;
Their whereabouts is still unknown,
And it looks rather grim
As you can see by the
Icicles forming on my chin.
There are no more eyes, no more faces
Only hoods and fur like animals;
Blowing about in the snowy places,
Wearing tails and paws for their disguise.
Through my snowy vision
I see flakes cluster like a storm of bees
And if there once were butterflies,
I don’t know where they’ve gone.
A silent winter death settles over everything
And even cars make no more sound.
And at last I feel the sting
Of the icy-needle as it’s pinning me down.
buy Lëaf Ednïwinga’s book on amazon: Em: A Picture-Book Fable
more by Lëaf Ednïwinga
photograph by Caleb George
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