Slippers of the Snow Queen

Dance, their pointed toes

Spreading frost in an intricate web

There are clouds in our lungs

That come out when we speak,

Drawn to the cold

Frost is laced on the windows and shingles

Silver-blue is the color of


Winter Birds

Little birds fly away from the storm

Wings heavy with heaven’s tears

Calling, chirping, mourning

Ink blotches against the gray parchment

Crow soars farther into the storm

The coward proving his bravery

We are trapped in winter weather

Watching nature through a screen

Little birds fly away from the storm,

But we are stuck in between