Between slush and snow,
Hidden in rich glacier tones.
Transformed by patches of bare earth,
And layers of shifting ice.
Hillocks crackle while wind howls,
Scouring the unprotected with infinite pinpricks.
Reaching even to the deepest of lairs,
As a receding glimmer in an already forgotten dream.
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.