We are in the first throes of winter here in the Interior: ice on the roads, snow and mist in the air in the early morning, still a hint of warmth–above freezing–in the afternoon. We are shifting consciousness to the inner life of winter, readying ourselves to do what’s necessary to get through the season. And there are moments of sudden beauty–not the gaudy greens and reds and golds of summer, but the subtle pastel of morning light on snow, of the sun slanting on hills, the breath of horses in the evening air.
So write about the small beauties of approaching winter, the ones you’ve forgotten about since April or May but that lead you to embrace the approaching season–inner and outer.
Post a poem in the comments and I’ll add it to this post.
Mattie's Pillow 
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