The glass has splashes of frost
swirling across the surface
like the tracks
of a spinning ice skater
The cold creeps past the icy design
and touched my nose.
I am glad to be inside and warm.
As I gaze into my yard
the white flakes
float softly down
driven by unseen currents
finally resting in sparkling piles
disturbed only by a breeze.
Winter has arrived, quietly
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~ Z . B. M c C l u r e
Ron
budd