It's Still Life

Snow Cries Out for a Crow

I want to dream
summer across the snow.

No
snow,
or snowy
dirt.

No
grey anything.

No
blue hands
or quaking bones.

There’s no
foothold, grip or tread.

I want to draw
heat across my skin.

Snow
cries out for a crow.

Image: Digital Art in the style of L. Lowry ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter