Winter Ride a new poem by Man Of Asgard

Winter Ride

A dark blacktop ribbon
stretches,
merging
into the soft,
misty, battleship gray
curtain of sky.
Expansive.
Immense.
They meet at the edge
of the broken
horizon
smudged with ever-changing shapes:
white wood-framed homes,
rustic barns,
livestock,
bare leaf-less trees
whose black arms branch into
countless twining fingers
reaching up at heaven.
Gnarly fingers these.
They threaten to rip and claw
through heaven's floor.
At sixty the shapes last
only a few seconds.
Then transform.
Image after image.
At first the snow
falls gently,
white ashes from a bon-fire.
Then, like goose down from
a torn comforter,
snowflakes hide the sky
in massive whiteness.
Only the dark, blacktop ribbon
marks the way.
Once that succumbs to white
movement ceases,
transformed into
Isolation.


NOTE: this was written while riding home from my vacation. It is images as I perceived them going down the hiway at 60 mph

Show all stories by   Author:  54444 ( Click here )