Another Poem: Winter Still

More winter-themed poetry today. I don't know exactly why I write so much of it. Perhaps it is simply that the season is so still and contemplative to me.  Maybe I just love snow. Autumn runs a close second but I will admit freely summer holds no poetic appeal to me. Summer is too lush, too warm, and too green. Odd when I think about it; green is my favorite color. Spring? Another story. . .another time.

Winter Still  

And it is yet winter

Silent...cold...softly still

With only ice-cloaked branches

Clicking on my windowpane.

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And the tree outside my window is bare.

Even reluctant leaves gone.

Only the branches covered with ice

Softened with snow.

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A metronome of passing time

In whitewashed silence

Be still

Just wait.