Greg Budig 2021
Ice crystals
turn the afternoon
into morning.
Clusters of delicate
ice patterns fall.
An atmosphere created
of silence and memories.
I close my eyes and
become part of it all.
Transfixed by the
rhythmic white patterns.
Mesmerized I follow
the hypnotists chain.
Lulled into a peaceful
childlike slumber.
Remembering what
it means to feel
peaceful again.
A sterile white
contrast against the
twisted black branches.
Softening the edges of
the sharp granite stones.
Filling in the sidewalk
that circles the block.
Covering the roof of each
neighborhood home.
Sitting in my chair I
gaze through the glass.
Window cracked slightly
to let in the cool air.
It smells of snow
and lightly sweet
wood smoke.
I can close my eyes
and see myself there.
The End
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