Looking for winter ( poetry challenge )
I heard the lake speak of its captor
my stone played echoes on the ice.
The synthetic crunch
of powdered snow
is tainted by the day as
grit holes turn to black spots
browning under tyre slush.
It offers me its pungent sleep
burnt deep beneath hands sized leaves,
thick as early morning mist
that hangs heavy on the spire.
I tasted its fingers inside
my lungs, condensing through
my red wool scarf.
Then heard it snap a fallen branch
silent as a gun shot to a deer.