The Warm Cold Light Poem by Thomas Hooker
The Warm Cold Light
The warm cold light
Staring at the sun,
I felt the warm light
wash over my face.
I could smell the fresh
snow, as icy water
chased over rocks and
the sculptured clouds
drifted off to the east.
Still they blow
with every breath,
the billowing gusts
that linger on snowdrifts.
The sun, buried
by the moon
with Venus rising,
heavy limbs bow down
holding blankets of white.
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5/8/2024 7:59:18 PM # 1.0.0.1119
