There between the fir’s snowed branches, whispers haunt in winter’s dance,
“Hush!”, she cried in rare defiance, “their whispered dreams don’t come by chance!”
Softly sparkled whiskers flitting through the early morning’s gleam,
whispering wishes for the new day held within this whispered dream.
Written for dVerse Poets Pub, Quadrille #24
Image – courtesy of public domain