Winter does not empathize
with withered branches or
displaced birds fleeing waves
of frozen breath.
Her howling wind is a laugh out loud and
she hasn’t the grace to cover her mouth.
A tease of holly and evergreen flicker
at the curve of billowed thighs
glistening folds of hallowed mounds
drift in other worldly sighs ensnared
in her exquisite binds.
art by Karol Bak