writing

Leavenworth

Snow, glistening and white, sparkles in midday sun.

Fields with inches deep covered by glittery powder.

Douglas firs reach arms to the sky,

Their swaying arms holding clusters more of the chilled flakes.

As the heat of the day invades, the boughs give way,

And scatterings of snow falls to the earth below.

No birds or beasts to be found.

But the moments are quiet and soft,

Just piles of snow and trees galore.

On the road to Leavenworth.

One thought on “Leavenworth

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