night

Winter is almost over, but it has been freezing lately. I found this poem that I wrote a couple years ago - it fits in nicely with the weather we've been experiencing here.

*
of winter skies where
crimson stars release their golden heat
against the cold indigo night-

upon the ground lies crisp snow like the
smell of cinnamon on Sunday morning,

turned to ice between the mountains.

the place where arrows point towards a chasm
on a spiraling pathway
is where I find my home.

Anyone know what happened to Poetry Friday?