A Winter's Squall
It is autumn who foregoes this icy blizzard
Who, as its name quite tells, throws out its hues;
Its crunchy leaves and humming sounds
And falls over to the ceaseless fleece throw
That the frigid gale brings forth
A winter tempests beholds an inner fierceness
- Elated and swift power –
Capable of taking over time in its pass
Paralyzing motion with its sharp white fangs
Alarmingly frosty and nipping gross entirety
Breaching the power of a kidnapper
Holding onto his hostage until further ado
Freezing, for a moment, object past object
And elating a solid marble masterpiece out of its numerous hosts
It is this same tempest, however
Which in its stir leaves gleaming,
Frozen jewels of pure ember, pearl, garnet, and emerald
And thousands of embedded crystals in the solid ground
Set aflame by the sheen of a setting dusk
Like tiny, ingrain facets of a diamond grinning up above at the Auroras;
At an uninterrupted vastness of sky,
Transforming the blanket of a once uniform white abyss
To something whose beauty surpasses that of Eden –
In its all magnificent glory.
Never have I seen a winter's twilight that had left me so aghast.