Falling Ice

The Snowpack glistens Against a late November sun. Weighed down by the burden Of frigid memories that Will later flow as torrents Into empty reservoirs

Fields of Green

A continent of purest blue begins to flow, an unstoppable force That spills towards the sea in cinematic slow motion. Pristine shades of sapphires that

Preserved in Ice

You struggle for breath. And reach towards the sun With yellowed fingertips; Stunted roots Can no longer drink The static water that was Once a

A Slippery Slope

As mountains break apart at snow-packed seams, They spew their powdered cargo without care; Destroying life with frozen, hoary streams, Their mass and scope now

A Limited Shelf Life

Within the frothy sprays and barren seas, Atop the very apex of our Earth, Anomalies are stirring in the breeze; Instead of mapping the expected

Unwanted Feedback

Sunbeams two-step over white blankets Gliding painlessly between worlds, Then stray too close to the edge Where looming Arctic waves Trap their latent heat; Ending

The Deep Tracks of Unwanted Advances

In ancient times your reddened sands, Were struck by courtiers from space; They scarred you with their giant hands, Then watched as tears fell down