The air was stiff, the earth still draped in cold.
A white snowy blanket embraced the land,
Stretching icy fingers across earth's mold
And freezing the warm heart, like Jack Frost planned.
I stood at my window and glanced outside;
The world was pale white, without stain or blush.
When, to bring hope to a world that had died,
There appeared a savior, a simple thrush.
The agent of life stood atop the snow,
Chanting a spell to unthaw winter's sting.
Proclaiming music to let the earth know,
He was the mere predecessor of spring.
© Copyright 2016 Mark Narankevicius. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Other
Short Story / Sports
Poem / Religion and Spirituality
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