Black ripples rise into white-tipped peaks.
The water looks so cold.
Strong winds manipulate the current
changing its direction without warning.
The sun is a welcome stranger
shedding perspective on the morning.
Oh! To be bold and grab hold
and find warmth in this freeze
and a lift in this breeze.
But the birds have gone
taking their inspiration to a place
much brighter than here.
Even the trees, so stoic, have died.
On my cheeks are freezing tears I’ve cried
and I am left here, alone.
Longing for a day when I see more then gray
and I feel more than cold.