In the distance far behind me
A tree stands faintly showing
Wrapped within a cape of white
Amid the sharp winds blowing
My umbrella yields no shelter
As I brace against the storm
Snowflakes gather round me
Like bees about to swarm
And still I wander on the dunes
Drifting high above the ground
And lose myself in howling winds
That nary make a sound
©2015 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved