Craig W. Steele

The color of springtime is in the flowers;
the color of winter is in the imagination.
— Terri Guillemets

Winter creeps among the trees.
Coldness chatters in its wake,
sprinkling frost on all the leaves
sailing ‘cross a frozen lake.

Howling breath of cold north wind
races through the forest, dark,
icy fingers stabbing in,
chilling life within the bark.

I wake up quickly, sit up straight
until my chilly dream escapes,
then lie back down, because it’s late,
and choose to dream of warm landscapes.