Jan 15
1 min read
This Winter Makes Its Advance And Retreat
Sunday sonnet
I woke. There’s just the hint of white. I find
it turned a little warmer still. It tries.
The weather just would not make up its mind.
As darkness fell, a warmth began to rise.
The wet snow melted as it fell to earth.
A slushy mess, a night to go and hide.
It’s warm in…
