Diamond Dust

I watch as diamond dust

falls to the ground.

Softly and silently,

beautiful to the eyes

but chilling to the touch.

It’s scintillating shimmer

is out of place

with the dead trees around it.

The wind whispers in my ears,

nipping at my toes

as it blows into the distance,

leaving as quickly as it arrived.

Only a faint reminder is there

that it even existed.

The frosty air fills my lungs.

The snow freezes my bare feet

as I trudge along

this icy path.

I may slip,

and I may fall.

But this ice ignites passion,

and I will get up.

I will always get up.

Winter seems

immortal, infinite, endless.

But I know this isn’t true,

for in the divine desert of diamonds

lies a vivid patch of emerald.

Although feeble and frail,

it will outlast this boreal winter.

For when snow melts,

it is not water that is made.

It is spring.

Advertisements