Winters Ghost

Posted on September 15, 2013 by oldmainer

I can feel his touch
A chill descends upon me
He is in the breath
That forms before me

He is in the wind
That whispers to the pines
Skeletal trees flex their fingers
Leaves plummet to their death

His presence is betrayed
I am not alarmed
We have met before
Oft locked in struggles

I have fended off his frozen arrows
Snapped his sword of ice
Weakened his arctic grip
Forcing his surrender

I have left his spirit broken
To wither in the fields of spring
Vanquished yet unbeaten
Withdrawing from the fray

He will return
When once again
Autumn flees
To challenge me anew

About oldmainer

I am a retired manager living in Southern Maine and a would be writer of poetry, narratives, short stories, and random opinions, and that's how Oldmainer was born. Recently, I decided to try an experiment. I added photography to the mix, using only a cheap cell phone with a limited camera and the editing software that came with it, and added the blog site Inklings at poormanspoet.wordpress.com to showcase the results. So, feel free to use whatever you find interesting or worthy, but please honor the terms of my copyright when and if you do. They may not be much, but they are still a piece of me. I appreciate your checking me out and hope that you find something that will encourage a return visit. Thanks for stopping by.

View all posts by oldmainer →