30 Likes Comment
  • Save

Inky depths of the lake’s cool waters,

Shades of smoky quartzes and sapphires.


Nascent rays danced across

The mirrored disc stretched

Out in front of black rocks,

Wielding it to shimmer

And glitter like diamonds.


Sprawling skies above,

The colour of bruises,

The colour of dreams;

Dark purples, light blues.


Splinters of light creep in

Through cracks of

Conspiring clouds

Blossoming into

The deepest hues of

Indigos, lapis, and dark greys,

Carrying the danger of rain.


Squint in the distance,

One can see a thin line

Of jagged peaks of

Morning mist mountains,

Joining the sky and lake

At the horizon.


Crisp winter air works

On numbing the fingers,

Painting pale cheeks

A stinging rosy red,

Turing each exhale

Into smoke.


Jack Frost’s breath

Bites at your neck

As hands dig deeper

Into pockets, searching

For a sliver of warmth,

Teeth framed by

Blue-tinged lips

Clattering still.


Gusts of wind tug

At the ragged ends

Of a scarf,

Plays with hair,

Makes a cherry nose run.


Smell of pinecones,

Dry remains of autumn leaves,

Wafts around as one almost

Slips over wet stones,

Able to catch footing

In muddy boots,

Danger averted

At the last moment.


The only sounds that break

The quietness is skimmed rocks;

Making a splash, creating ripples,

The methodical beat of wings

Before whooper swans began

To glide on the water’s edge,

And winter hymns of snow buntings.

  • Save

You might like

Elaine Mullarkey

About the Author: Elaine Mullarkey

She/Her Wordsmith and bibliophile that does a spot of writing every now and again.

Leave a Reply

0 Shares 1.2K views
Share via
Copy link
Powered by Social Snap