Murmured Waves Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Murmured waves of the breezy naked trees
Stand in winter's gate in icily froze
Where wind harp of seasons forever goes
The invisible atmosphere of cold breeze
Solitude in its celestial dim light
In a forest that's transformed to silence
Gravel is pouring its weaving's of night
From the demise songs of withering blench

The mysterious shadows of winter's moon
In its hollowing magnetized blue heights
Surrounded by gloominess everywhere
The deserted domains of autumn's gone tune
Still from outside here deleterious blights
To give doubtful meanings to boughs swaying bare