Like liquid glass,
Water gives itself
Rising slowly
In waves of steaming mist
Into the dead calm
Of an icy pink dawn

Bearded in hoary frost
Frozen to sparkling sand
Ripe for fireplace picking

Geese fly
Honking talk
Voiceless ducks
Counterpoint with whirring wings

Air so cold
It makes your teeth ache
I hold the coffee cup up
And watch its mist meld with
The steaming water

Hunching into my coat
Watching gulls soar
On unseen updrafts
I marvel at the life before me
In the season of the dead

As I go to gather firewood.

By Pete Bolte (

Watch these pages for more poems by Pete.



More poems and stories. Follow the list of links.

Check these out:

December Thoughts


Winter Fun

Sweet Dreams

December's Shoreline

Bopper's Christmas

Winter Concerto

The Green Velvet Gown

Winter Warm

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The midi is "By The Sea".