Winter’s First Morning

He is Winter’s first morning –
Crisp, a fresh air of coolness
Ray of slight smile he wears
Careful steps in virgin snow
Contemplation quietly there.

Prayer II

Be as fire to your winter
The breeze in parched heat
A shower in your droughts
The calm in stormy seas.

Winter Morning

This short prose for Christmas appeared as soon as the imagery for the seasons’ personas did.

Coppered leaves danced
Coyly, she smiled
Barely touching as they passed.

His dark eyes flickered
On her red-gold hair
In a moment, a glance

Autumn is gone,
For Winter has come.