Icy
- Angie Nabrotzky Lassig
- Jul 27, 2020
- 1 min read
Updated: Sep 12, 2020
In the deep, dark, cold, midwinter,
Sighs are lost in the air as crystals, drifting slowly.
Clouds hover closer to the ground.
Snow locks the sound of my voice within my reach.
top of page
Search
Recent Posts
See All
I sense the world from my guts, and by that… I mean I sense the world from the roots of my ancient ancestry. From the depths of surviving...
Post: Blog2_Post
bottom of page
Comments