Berean Winter

My writing friends and I agreed to write a little on winter this month, so I wrote this piece and took this photograph on my way to work this morning to go along with it.  

Berean Winter

Iron and Wine serenades

The dancing winter snowflakes

 Against my window pane.

Those unfortunate enough

To find themselves outside

Do not dance.

They plow

Headlong into the heartless wind,

Chins tucked,

And coats pulled tight.

They cannot hear the music.

The gazebos are empty.

The coffee shops are full.

Knitting needles click.

Bicycles lay idle beneath the snow.

 Winter has found Berea at last.