Pale is the Heart

the weight of winter hangs low and rough it pulls brutally against the darkest clouds and yet the flame burns bright the falling snowflakes touch everything in quiet stillness enfolding noise the despair wrapped in beauty and silence snow melts gathering its tears into a cloudy puddle I look up and I no longer see the stars (2011 was a very quiet year for my writing, I am hoping to re-charge and re-focus creatively)