This morning when I snapped the shades,
the sun was missing in the sky.
A thick white fog enveloped trees,
cloaked passing cars in street nearby.
More than a foot of fallen snow
now drapes landscape, refines the scene.
Such glamor in a gleaming shroud
wide-spread on slopes, untrod, pristine.
The drifting snow becomes small dunes
which swiftly morph in shape and size.
Sometimes wind-swept they leap along
then slither to a quick demise.
This world is silent, strangely still,
a scene out of a fantasy.
Inviting yet disquieting,
a wistful dream or reverie.
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| Writing Prompt |
A quatrain is a poem that has four lines for each stanza. It usually has rhyme scheme of abab or its variant, xbyb. Click here for an example. |
Author Notes
Artwork courtesy of Google images.
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