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Footsteps Tracked The Burning Snow: By Richard.E.Craig (1 Viewer)


Senior Member
Crisp footsteps tracked the burning snow
far and distant the wild white waste,
skittish clouds of ethereal swirling
freezing dust.
Lost is the land that once was familiar
a shroud that stills and quietens ,
and all in the world is for but a
time be-stilled.
To the furthest parts of this great white sea
the heavens above dark and brooding,
their tensile vaults buckle and spill
a raging blistering blizzard.
Far and long throughout the night the shrieking
tempest whips and casts the wicked chill,
o'er dale,valley and battered hill.
Morning light comes dull and frigid the mourning
land lays pale and rigid.
Crisp footsteps that once tracked the burning snow
now brushed into silence into
skittish clouds of ethereal

Jane Martin

Senior Member
Love the imagery, I can almost feel the cold. Its very evocative, certainly describes well what we have been living with lately Richard! There is almost a deeper layer to this, as if the battering that the landscape is getting is hitting the people too in more than just a physical sense.