And the Raven draws near

Once in a while a snowflake falls softly;
winter storms at the dawn of the day,
cotton kisses ice cold countrysides,
frozen leaves ring brittle in the breeze
then skitter down the road, lost to the world.
Breath freezes pale in the morning darkness,
snow crushes under empty footsteps,
and horses will shy when the raven draws near.

Icicles lend themselves to thoughts of frozen tears,
quickly, the emptiness crawls over the crystallized lawn
swallowing, drowning, eating, screeling – hungry;
black and white and cold are the endless winter’s colors
but uncaring, the people pass by.

 For only horses will shy when the raven draws near.






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