Winter

Moonlit stars twinkle,

Dancing across the sparse, errant night sky.

Wind wisps through needles thick,

Whispering to the trees:

“Winter is coming”

See it on the window panes -

Frosted glass cold,

Cold as when death’s foot shall pass,

Heated breaths on numbing lips,

Huddled in the fold.

Birds flock over frozen roofs,

Black contrast on lilac-lavender sky.

Slipping on snowflakes,

Covering the lake,

Skating on thin ice.

Lit by a crackling oil lamp ablaze,

The cold, wooden hut, she stays.

Escaping from the burning cold,

Trying hard to stay warm,

Staring out of the window in gaze.