A Warm Heart In Winter

Blindly drifted out into the mountain, the pastoral flair always revived, fueled; alive with a childhood memory,
more eager when Nature speaks volumes about the winds and gales, the torrents and the flowing rivers,
the thick layers of snow, and the flames that dance like fairy silhouettes against the walls,
the sliding steps 'pon the slippery steep slopes.....

When winter is again and ever faithful to its chilling rhythm, foggy and iced air, cold and freezing,
when beauty is not only flowers dancing in vernal breeze, happy birds singing between the trees,,
beetles glowing with love among the reeds,  or the cheerful cicada chirping summer dizzy melodies..
or even when the ripe grenades, and the loaded vines sway in the orchard under autumn vibes..
and windy vibrations..
.
Beauty is cold fueled with a poet's ink, the fire that flares up from withing the sensitive heart,,
and warms all the cold scenery.Beauty in winter takes a different track, the shaded  corner of
the heart that sun never sees, the beaten dust by sheep feet, and cow herds, glossy,
their back glistens in the faint sunlight of winter, like those glazed rock on the mountains flank..
a pearly glow reflected like a crystal clear diamond..

i clothe my back with the drizzle that sizzles like a streaming whisper thru' the stones..trickling
like little ants tripping hastily along the track to their safe haven, loaded with winter food...
A caressing touch from the drops awakes the sleeping pen, from a a poetic hibernation..
dipped deeply in December rains and tracing the wet lines of the poetic rapture