Winter

Winter crept

through the whispering wood

hushing fur and oak

crushed each leaf and froze each web

but never a word was spoke

Winter prowled

by the shivering sea

lifting sand and stone;

nipped each limpet silently-

and then moved on

Winter raised

down the frozen stream,

catching at his breath;

on his lips were icicles

At his back was death.

By Judith Nichollas