Liquid Welkin Poem by Paul Hartal
Liquid Welkin
A melted sky flows
to the frosty ground,
they merge
in a pale gray curtain
of twirling white lumps.
Rough and rugged
crystal hexagons
of frozen vapor scales
fall from the silvery sky.
They descend
like a scattered shade
disguised as plump,
spumy and portly
February snowflakes
that pirouette
and parachute
to the hoary earth.
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4/27/2024 12:35:44 PM # 1.0.0.1119
