Sweet Stillness

satishverma

In the wilderness
of snowfall, a hungry
raccoon will leave his footmarks.

I listen to the soundless
music of flurries,
flying like white moths
in blue light.

It is not dawn. Yet I
can see the outlines of
boats at the feet of―
lake moon.

You can walk now
amidst the frozen
thoughts.

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: September 15th, 2020 19:53
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 9
  • Users favorite of this poem: Trenz Pruca
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