The cold air
Hits me instantly, spontaneously,
As I step out the door.
Puffs on the cold air in little white clouds,
Forming a quick wisp of silky fog.
Soft, white, like winter’s blanket,
Spirals from the sky, landing on
The creases of my shirt,
Landing on my eyelashes,
Creating a cold white barrier between my eyes
And the world ahead. Ice
It covers the water on the street
In a cold, hard shell of whiteness
Causing my boots
To slip and slide over it.
The bleak, black skeletons of trees
Sway solemnly in the harsh, snowy wind.
The magazine platform, inspiring, connecting and
supporting creative kids around the world