Category: Poetry

It is still a magical time for me…that time when the first snowflakes begin to fall. 

Each one silently floats to the earth until a thin covering of white touches the ground, the porch, and the trees…As if someone was sifting powdered sugar over the earth.

The lines of the outdoors becomes visible with the sugary coating…the tree limbs, the bushes, the cars, and the old bicycle behind the shed.

While the indoors feels warm and cozy…a safe haven from the elements. 

It is a time of quiet, of reflection, of contentment…a time of being home.  

           

***What gives you a time of reflection, which in turn feeds your art…or your life in general?***                                                                                                                                                                   

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