Winter

The snow is descending from the clouds.
The strong smell of evergreen is filling the air.
Summer is falling and winter is here.
Someday warmth will spring forth once more.
Until then the cold is here to stay.
A strange feeling arrives with the front.
It's strange but not so strange because I know it well.
It is hard to tell breath from smoke.
And I'm standing at the peak near the heavens.
And I'm screaming at the top of my lungs, pretending that the echo is the voice of someone I used to know.
Just then the birds begin to fly, cracking branches from where they lie.
And the ice makes its familiar sound, as deer leave their stamps on the ground.
Night approaches and the temperature declines.
The reflection of the snow makes the night seem day.
There is something tranquil about the snow, the purity and the silence.
Everything is unhurried and bliss.
It makes me cry.