This Winter's breath, from my mouth, escapes. . .
Hot to cold
creating this dense fog. . .

And I think of my death, bating. . .
Yet, in hints of Spring. . . reflating,
Cool to warm. . .

There’s an unsleeping Heir when a babe is born!

Rise again, and feel the Summer breezes!
Warm to hot
My nine of clouds, it was!

Out-riding on gusts of the winder staunch!
Until, my Fall fumed. . . paunchier
Hot to cooler

Aha!. . . such the twists, in the funneling winds of jejune drool. . .
I know, I know, I’m a little clogged!
Cold and Hot!. . . (It’s my Menopause. . . )

Stand, freely!. . . Sun under His beaten Son. . .
Cool to Hot
Winter or not. . .The closer you are to Him, means drier skin!

Yes, and it will become harder and harder to hold your breath, and sin!
Exaltation will be our fifth and final season!
Catch this Wight Heir before He passes

. . . before your last seasons’ breath
Escapes. . . cloudless.


Copyright 2010
Kimmy Van Kooten