January Poem by Beryl Stockman
January
The wind cuts sharply last night snow fell,
Now branches bare dark bones to a frozen sun,
Seagulls perch and fly above the line of the rooftop,
Changing places in an endless dance,
White clouds drift slowly past clinging to the window pane,
All light seems distant, all life unreal,
There's no warmth to break this icy spell.
Sunday, January 5, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: places,branches,clouds,dance,snow
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8/28/2026 1:36:04 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
