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Arrival of Winter
The air shifts, crisp as shattered glass,
trees shed their gold like discarded coins.
Clouds, heavy and gray, blanket the sky
like unspoken words. Frost creeps across
windows, thin as a spider’s web at dawn.
Autumn hums its final song, as winter
marches in, silent as a held breath,
its icy hands tracing the earth’s cold embrace.
First Frost
Frost feathers the forest floor,
fragile as freshly spun sugar,
glinting like shards of shattered glass.
Branches bow beneath its brittle weight,
whispering secrets of stillness and silence.
Cold air bites, sharp as a wolf’s unseen breath.
© Peter A. Witt
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| Peter A. Witt |
Peter A. Witt is a Texas poet and a recovering academic who lost his adjectives in the doldrums of academic writing. Poetry has helped him recover his ability to see and describe the inner and outer world he inhabits. His work has been twice nominated for Best of the Net. He also writes family history, and is an avid birder and wildlife photographer.
