Snow’s Folly

My heart is laden with the late winter’s snow

How pristine… How very elegant and decadent

Swaddled with my prideful green boughs bending low

Not even the beckoning wanton gusts evoke a quiver

 

But nigh on the horizon, the rays of spring

Proceed, gleaming ever before and ever after

Now, that which once benumbed falls, thawed, shattering

I stand, soaked, as I dance with only a remembered shiver

 

Forlorn

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Ponderings of a Probation Officer

The tales of juvenile probation are sometimes splendid and sometimes melancholy. This is where I have decided to dump/cope with my reflections.

T. Shaw

She writes what she speaks.

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