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.