through the eyes of Winter

crisp and dreamy as if the city was still

looking across the river and the pond

and the water is at a peaceful rest

searching around and pouring out

like hot tea from a steaming pot

sentiments and reason dare not drop

as the seconds and miutes of the clock

continue as if nothing else mattered

and there was never a reason to ever stop

a fuzzy buzz and clear skys and the moon and stars

stare back as whispers of strangers walk by unison

and many miracles and themes play themselves out

over the scent that is the in the air for this particular season