Snow Hog?

Last night I saw an obese man riding a motorcycle.

It was snowing.

He wins.

Copperhead Winter

The air is biting;
ravenous,
surrounding quickly as
it consumes like a viper,
savoring the bones to a shiver
without breaking the skin.
As each whispered wish for warmth is shed from our mouths
they dissipate inside the churning depths of this serpentine season.

A picture is worth 1000 words, but words are futile

Her smile is daybreak
and a gentle shake which brings consciousness;
I arise basking in the bright glow
which leaves behind restless nights

Her voice is the cadence of a grand orchestra
sounding off a joyous requiem for the sorrow,
now and forever, devoid of a beating black heart

Her touch is a hush
silencing the static of incessant thought;
palpating the soul.