as winter spreads
her crooked fingers
against the land
of sullen heat
the streams
along the highway
give forth
clouds of mist
that blanket the land
between the trees

it looks haunting
to the three or four people
not so caught up
in their own
terminal velocity
angrily driving
to whatever destination
of no consequence
awaiting them
around the bend

i see you
spirit of the cold
with desperately
clawing grasp
yet i ignore you
with memories
of spring time bliss
playing on loop
in the dusty halls
of my mind
with swollen green buds
hanging
the promise
of summer glistening