Take Two

Being a stubborn sort, I was determined to salvage something from yesterday's goof, so as soon as the porridge had fortified my inner woman, I sat down this morning to let the muse return, if possible. Below is the resultant offering, for which I'd like your suggestions for a title, if you please?


Untitled - but living in hopes...

Meltwater droplets drip on frozen ground.
Air temperatures relax, relinquish hold
on pristine snow that fell from Winter’s hand.
They unlock the vice-like grip of biting cold.

Now, drab and brown, our countryside returns;
no more disguised as one amorphous mound
beneath a cloak whose icy fire burns
while bush and branch, defenceless, hunker down.


The snowbound world held still its frost-rimed breath
as Silence danced light-footed through the land -
leaving in her wake a peace like death,
she forbade the merest whisper; it was banned.

A trespasser is how she made me feel,
in her soulless universe of cold forged steel.

And, because it's Friday, here's one of those slightly annoying, 55 word stories to whet your appetite, whistle, or whatever, as dreamed up by this gentleman.

A gunshot echoed amongst the trees. Birds raucous alarm calls shattered the air in tandem with wing beats, which created swirling eddies in overhead foliage. The sudden brouhaha ceased, as wildlife realized no danger lurked. Only a slight aroma of gunpowder remained to mark the scene where,in surrounding leaf mould, a body lay bleeding.