Next poem: February

More Poems  |  (He'd love to hear from you!)
Copyright Paul Cantrell
Using this poem on your site? Please link back!

Midnight Walk

When the frozen air
stings our nostrils with
the potentiality of spring
for a moment
our trail of words
ceases, and we share
the silence
in which, beneath
the cold,
something beautiful
is waiting
to be born.