Winter Still Life
Outside, at night a light dusting of white
Kissed the midnight cloaked living room
Still shadows are reflected as greyscale phantoms
Shimmering in moonless, moonlit frost
Beyond the window, snow falls silently
And then it blows, gusting in shrill currents
Snowcaked branches sway, beckoning
As the wind howls it's protest, rattling the pane,
Inside, light and shade play parlor tricks
Turning vacant space into a bustling celebration of spirits
Insulated by the warm hush of silence
Broken only by the breeze whispering at my window
And the rising, falling pulse of my own heartbeat.
I forgot to add the link! The folks over at dVerse posted a "sketchbook" writing prompt, and this is my attempt. Head on over there if you'd like to learn more.