Poem: Winter's Imbalance

 The wind blows
over the carpet of leaves
spinning lazily about
dancing between the trees
as their bare branches
sway too and fro
greeting the gales
of winter.

The world sleeps
under a blanket of gray
the frosty morning light
touches all with chill
even as all are drowsy
deep underground
or burrowed beneath
heavy blankets.

The Gods watch
as the predator swims
through the the drifts of white
searching for a hapless straggler
to fill its belly
for the short time
of its perilous existence.

The time ticks
way too slowly
for the ones who cling
to the hope of spring
and too quickly
for the ones who enjoy
the warmth of home
at the fire's hearth.