Light reflects off of mounds
And piles, and drifts of
Snow.
Endless waves of white,
Like a sea, or more like a
Desert—
Dangerous. Barren,
Monotonous.
The wind shapes—
Sometimes like fingers in clay,
But
In storms it whips
Its victim in fury.
In the morning
Sun glints off
White,
Endless white,
Waves
and waves
and waves
of empty
Cold.
from cold. Untamed Beauty (page 10-11)