Immense wet white fluffy frozen patterns
dance slowly down and around near breezeless. Not in particular haste to cover
harder dense dirty frozen rain remnants. Of an earlier blanketing before
continuing to mask our dormant soil. Preception blocked as if peering through gauze
as I sit and watch out cold hazy panes. At a later time this will all be gone
but a chilling memory of days now past. With cyclic harmony all will return
barren birthing growing dieing and dead. Ever floating snow before falling rains
followed by scorching sun and winds of change. These dancing white frozen emissaries
are but temporary as aren't we all.
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Reviews of "Tale of the White"
Reviewed by Sandy Hoynacki (Reader)
Reviewed on February 2, 2013
Somehow, this brings me to realize this is life. Watching it through cold panes...Then comes sunny days, but alas, all is within the temporal role...You have a way of sketching very vivid images..I do love your writings..Always have since first reading you....
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Sandy
Ron