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Winter
The silence.
I see the silence.
Not even the cruel cold can break the silence.
The snow is pure smooth.
Human hands have not yet destroyed it.
The muted sun hangs low,
Surrounded by grey-white clouds.
All is embedded in a sky of gloom.
The sky is a cavernous hue,
More like being inside.
The light is a ghost,
Lonely and cold.
My breath surrounds me in white.
Snowy ground crunches underfoot.
Rivers of snow cut through civilization.
All is eerie and quiet.
I am a ghost observing the world,
And the winter is my haven.
I stand alone toward the horizon,
No need to be warm,
For I am human winter.
I know the flaming heat will come.
The winter will be destroyed always,
Until it resurrects again.
I live it as it lasts,
This moment of pure winter.
​© 2025 Quincy Dominic White