Winter's Magic Bliss

The snow softly falls in the meadow.
The small creek is frozen over.
Smoke rises from the chimney,
of an old log cabin.

The scent of burning wood,
floats through the evening air.
The smell captures,
your heart and soul.

Taking in a deep breath,
I close my eyes.
I imagine the warmth,
of that roaring fire.

I can see the flames,
dancing to their own beat.
The burning embers aglow,
in shades of red and orange.

I open my eyes,
and take in the beauty.
A snow covered pine,
stands before me.

Into the chilly air,
I stick out my tongue.
I try to catch,
as many snowflakes as I can.

1, 2, 3, but, I soon lose count.
The hooting of an owl,
breaks the silence.
A morsel of,
Winters Magic Bliss

Elizabeth Ann Busheyİ
Copyright: 2005
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