Waiting. The cold, clean, crisp
rich winter settles in
for the long haul.
Waiting.
Jack frost dancing across
windshields and
church windows.
Simple snowflakes floating
downward to settle on
a young girl's outstretched tongue.
Waiting.
Wanting.
Watching.
There is a serene impatience
walking through
the peacful town on it's way
to the high north.
Waiting.
Walking through the thick
winding willows near
the lazy creek,
patches of ice floating
freely on the surface
catching reflections of the winter sun.
Watching.
Wanting.
Waiting.
