The longer the winter, the harder to bear the bleak and the cold, I find. Still, upon entering winter’s wilderness, I cannot deny its beauty, its sublimity. Here is a wintertime poem composed as I contemplated a winter scene through a glass pane, from the warm inside.
WINTER WINDOW
Watch through the window in winter:
a solitary snowflake
floating innocently down
to catch, and slowly fade,
on the frosted ground;
a stray photon
flying from a distant minor star,
surviving massing clouds
and a creeping fog;
a shriveled gambel leaf
yielding finally to the nagging wind
and wafting without will
to alien ground;
a slow fly
bouncing repeatedly, futilely, against the clear pane,
falling to convalesce upon the sill, unaware that
on the other side exists a lonesome sterility and a cold unable to bear.
Rabbit Lane 
Desolate and brill
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. You stumped me with “brill.” My dictionary says a brill is a fish! Hopefully you mean “brilliant”! Whether fish or awesomeness, I thank you for reading, enjoying, and commenting. Good luck with that hangover!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ha ha! Brill as in brilliant…hangover well and truly abated now.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I think this is my favorite of your pieces that I’ve read so far. “yielding finally to that nagging wind” evokes much more than a falling leaf. And the fly… his is the human condition.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for seeing.
LikeLiked by 1 person