A Winter’s Day

Things wither and fade,

Only to be reborn

Into new productions

For show to the world.

 

Thoughts run like ribbons

Waiting to be made into bows

Or simply tying things together.

Feelings follow, uncertain yet sure.

 

Rain lowers its sodden curtain

And creatures take to hiding.

Sky remains gray and yielding

To the winds afloat overhead.

 

Spinning turns to yawning,

The clouds drift in a slow shuffle.

Waiting for more time to elapse

To move on to more creative steps.

 

I stare at the computer,

Wondering what comes next.

There is only silence, adrift

As the clouds, searching.

 

© 2017 Valerie Hathaway

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