Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Cold holds
raindrops to the
treebones.
Nostalgic embraces,
sad goodbyes,
spontaneous performances,
under snow white,
winter wakening sky.
Death and endings
whistle,
into soft,
irresistible gestations.
Spring thaw training
reveals,
what it takes,
to come back again.

the return....the burn
the soul on ice....just
yesterday driving outside
the city limits I finally
realized all the leaves
were gone, ya know I
kinda love the brown of
winter.....nice one hest..................