Gates of Wrath Nov7 by melodylowes Treachery, thy name is Ice – dangerous to foe and friends, booby-trap, to be concise, magnetized to bottom ends; enemy to hip and knee, baited ambush to my path, pitfall to the fancy free, enter in the Gates of Wrath. Share this:FacebookEmailPinterestTwitterLinkedInTumblrLike this:Like Loading... Related
A slick picture & a slick poem!
🙂 Note to self – avoid that section of the sidewalk for a few days…
I used to deliver mail and those days of walking around on ice were treacherous! 🙂 Be careful!
That spot on the sidewalk I am avoiding – we continue to get nasty freezing rain, and it will be slick for a while – and forecast calls for snow on top of it – yikes!!
Another wow-wonderful poem, Melody–and I’m seriously praying for your safety on the black ice, clear ice, ice covered by snow ice! I hate, despise, detest, deplore and despair when we have ice–I have to walk up/down a little incline to the bank and grocery, so although I stay prayed up all year, I pray through clenched teeth in the winter ice! God bless you big–love, Caddo
Thank you! It has been raining on and off today, so more ice in the future – plus a wild snowstorm moving in. Should be lots of inspiration coming my way! 🙂
Oh my goodness! And yes, we poets make use of whatever comes our way–environmentally, or internally, eh?