Storm Howl – a poem

In words of frost at midnight the storm spoke

To me, tales in hoar crystals that rime my beard,

Sharp wonderment diminished by cold, purity

Guaranteed by temperature hyperboreal tangible

And by surprise visit, a demon in flakes howling.

*

All that is wished for need not ever be granted

To even those most fervent in their devotion,

The difference not made up for lack of trying,

Deficiencies defied against perceived need,

Lies in the storm, the rush of pure howls.

*

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: