Gravity in White

Winter breath,
Like one vast iron fist
Pummelling the ground,
Comes raging from the north.

The harvest crop of snow
Descends in stately silence,
Covering all with stillness.

Animal hearts beat red
With the will of a cornered beast—
The prey hemmed in by hunters
Who wait outside, on all sides.

Spring is a green thing
Glistening in the farthest reaches
Of a mind bent on survival.

©2016 Michael Fraley

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