All night, owls hid
and wolves trembled
while the wind
howled and hurled
its icy breath
over the world
until the pale
sun cast its cold
still light over white
laced hills, and the day
shimmered, brighter
than in summer.
* * *
“Ice Storm” (Reprinted from Dreams of a Wingless Child, by Mary O’Connor, Wheatmark,
© 2007; Photo by Bivenne Harvey Staiger © 2019
I can feel the howling wind and winter’s icy breath, but it still is filled with beauty and wonder. Thank you.
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