pale horses moving through trees,
dappled with darkness,
the ghosts of a blizzard,
their hoofbeats an echo of glaciers
scraping at the roots of the earth.
unseen traces drag winter behind them
like a great roaring, billowing wagon:
lead-grey as november clouds.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.