Danced, by wind the snowflakes care
not for tousled hair, nor warmth of breath
exhaled nor death the gravestone harks.
Their mark is soft, they melt on skin,
wet the strain of chin, and touch the tears
from widow’s fear of shadowed rooms.
Kerry wants us to write small at toads inspired by e.e. cummings one this snowflake “haiku”. Inspiration is six line poetry and I did my own variety of a wreathed sestet, using internal rhymes. Just as I wrote this snow started falling outside…
I will link this to poetry pantry tomorrow