Winter's cloak embraces me walking out the door.
White diamond studded frost cutting into metal,
Silver needles pulling white threads beneath the sun.
Winter-bare trees drifting in and out of fog,
Azure carpet darted with cumulus circles tossing about.
Should serenity be as gentle, misting rain,
Basking in this moment of nature and nothingness-
I have found the cotton trails of roaring thunder.
Streaming upward toward the heavens and beyond,
On silver needles pulling white threads beneath the sun.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem