©2018 by Author Patricia Taylor Wells. Proudly created with Wix.com


By Patricia Taylor Wells

Under a grey dome the pine trees

Are pasted against the sky,

Their branches swooping down to

Release their burden of snow.

Even the stillness seems to shiver in the wind

As it scatters snow dust all around,

Coating a landscape that will soon be scarred

By creatures scurrying about.

The white, powdered gound will

Sparkle when the sun appears,

Clinging to its fairytale existence

Before it melts away.