The Hiber of All Nations.

 

The Hiber- of all -Nations.

 

Like a huge

bottle of whiteout
winter pours

it's perfection,
over the blemishes

of men.

Hiding the flaws

that mar the earth,
under a vast 

alabaster blanket.

Its splendid spread,

is speckled with ten

trillion diamond sparkles,
insulating the sleeping life,
beneath the earth.

Driving men

indoors to ponder,
the hopes of renewal

in the spring.

There they gaze into

the burning embers,
of yesteryear's woods,
slowly reduced to ash
as it takes the edge

off of winter's bite,

and offers a taste

of summers to come.

 

 

 

©-MFB III

 

 

 

 

Wet head Times Two.  

Exit the warm,
improperly prepared,
for the sudden downpour,
to the

mailbox and  back.
Bills got the shelter

of my coat,
they would

soak me later,
but for now
humongus

splotches of
nature spit

icy rain
in my face.

Drenching me

with January's

pre-snow,
while a cold blast
of the old

North wind,
accentuated

the bitter bite
of the rain-sleet slop.

I stepped through

the front door,
dripping on

the hall floor,
and quite

ridiculously,
as most humans do,

I immediately
immersed myself

in another shower.

Some hot

massaging spray,
to invigorate

my frosted flesh,
and then a

good book,
and the fire
drained all

the dampness
free of my flesh.

 

 

 

 

©-MFB III