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.
Go Dog Go Café 
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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Fantastic. So atmospheric.
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Thank you for the mention and your kind words! I also am admiring all of your other writing! I’ll be sure to follow you.
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I can feel the chill even in the heat of a southern hemisphere summer, Michael. Excellent.
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Glad I can bring a chill into your summer for a time! I hope all is well where you are. Thank you for your words.
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Thank you!! It was a fun one to think up while wrapped up in warm blankets.
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Wonderful poem, Michael. Love the ending.
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Amazing!
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