James G Piatt’s poem Ashen Bones appeared here in December as part of Contributor Series 7: The Confessional Diary of Bone. What do you think: Is his winter scene the last of it or is there more of this kind of thing in our future this year?
Winter at the Farm
By James G Piatt
Icy winds blow
Long strings
Of frozen rain
Draped like
A wedding gown
Dazzling white
Upon a crooked fence
Twisted red beads
From aged pepper trees
Beautifully tossed
Pale shiny jewels
Upon ecru grass
Warm fire inside a
Brick fireplace
Keeping bodies warm
And minds composed
You’ve painted an awesome picture.
Lovely imagery.