Grey, no clouds, no wind. A sun ray pierces the lead and brushes the ground.
Peachy sky drips light like juice squeezed on the clouds soaking in cool glow.
The sun will soon melt all white veils of morning frost, leaving behind small tear drops.
Early morning. Park. In winter. Frost on the grass: Emeralds in webs.
Snow is falling down quietly careless, relentlessly quick.
Green trees stretch branches out with silent proud request that winter soon will end.
Cotton clouds slowly float to merge in a giant quilt bright, cushy and cold.
Clear skies, tranquil day. Then slowly – pitter-patter – Comes the pouring rain.
A dry twig’s soft crackle on a windless day – a sigh in the cool silence.
Heavy rain pours down cold season’s melancholy. Eyelids over-weigh.
In the lazy noon on the January sky pink roses in bloom.
Torrential rain pitter-patters on the leaves, singing afternoon lullabies.