Ice Age, Oil on Linen, 8"x10"
January 25, 2007
The Briefest Winter
The town nestles
at the foot of a cliff;
protected
from the winds,
embraced
by the sea.
Mists are gentle here,
silk summers none too hot;
the springs are mild
the autumn storms
most civilised.
And yet, one morning
I awoke to find
beneath a royal sky
of finest blue,
the garden crystalised,
transformed into
a fairy land, strange
world of beauty,
sparkling, magical,
all new it seemed,
all different
and bright, and white.
I went to greet this,
I remained to see the snow
turn clear, turn water,
fall away, time drops
dissolving then to now,
the briefest winter
come and gone.
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