Apparent

Stand still in the crunching leaves
Breezy blow down of the
hairs around your neck
smelly the icy future

Unattached to world of frenzy
Cold bleached denim
Wrapped around the ankles
Pulling your stockings higher

Night calls out to the lost
Telling of fear and patience
While those with home
Return to fuel the fire

And on this very hill
Few will stop to recall
The snow stood up to here
As blossoms ride the wind

All rights reserved to James Martin Cox