Majestic In It's Flow Poem by Ranko Radojevic

Tempest on the morrow, stillness in the evening,

Whirlwind's touch was chilling, soft caressed the snow,

Dusk was dragging sorrow, and the skies were grieving,

They became unwilling, to let the coldness grow.


Snow was rushing blindly, to join the currents melted,

Under wet wings shielding, leaves that branches throw,

And wind was sculpting wildly, after sun has settled,

Icy sculptures building, majestic in it's flow.