Winter

Angry spite brewing all summer.
Flourishing fury, pinching at the seams of autumn.
Breaking the canvas, unable to contain all chaos.

Crystal splinters devouring my face,
pulling my hair, tripping my feet.
Whistling wind whipping through skeleton branches,
no chance to rest in peace.
Burying every trace of Summer,
sealing it in an icy grave.

There's an eerie fit of silence;
stillness unexplained.
The sky sewn shut by blankets,
warming us for the show.
They dance with no purpose,
float with ease, plummeting with urgency.

I embrace what's left of my nonage,
shoving all nubile prospects aside .
Dancing like a child, lapping the silver flakes,
rolling in it's powdered bliss.
The best gifts are ones intended for the worst,
that you've happened to make better;
Moments just like this.