Crystalline- Michael Erickson

Speak words of frost upon winter peaks,

For between these valleys of discontent does darkness grow.

Hidden are quiet words of snow,

But beyond this place wage utter forces of nature.

In this moment,

Upon a rawness born of morning dew,

Crystals grow of delicate proportion.

Silence reigns between crusted plant,

Thriving upon each bitter edge.

Michael is a husband, father, writer, poet, and aspiring author. He finds time to scribble down his thoughts in the dead of night, between ghosts and night owls. If you’d like to read more of his poetry follow the link here. Or to visit his full blog, ‘The Ink Owl’ click here.

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