Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash
Like the Birch tree as it breathes
whispering to me
there are ice crystals somewhere in the stratosphere
about to make their way to earth
the time when a layer of gold treads across the horizon
as the moon's gravitational halos beam
defying velocity of the water breaching our atmosphere
dusk looming to wrap the moonlight around you
the trees are exasperated by the cold
swaying as they exhale
catching snowflakes with their limbs
until dawn's dew point
sun kissed by the warmth of solar flares
the apricity glow emulsifying snow on the branches
and instantly freezes
the temperatures refusing to rise

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