white out

 his wild work attacks,whiteout

as the north wind’s masonry

mounts stone by stone,

over the hidden thorn,

at the garden’s end

 

all friends are shut out,

as snow covers all,

making us again isolated

from the day’s toils,

a time for reflection,

a time to clear ones mind.

  

 

About Lindsay Craik

Writer & Poet Poetry, plays and short stories
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