This is, I think, a cinquain. It’s for Colleen Chesebro’s Tanka Tuesday poetry challenge and the words not to use are Destiny & Challenge.
We’re dipping into a relatively cold patch and the météo keeps predicting ‘a few flakes’ of snow. So far we haven’t had any. This afternoon as I went to have a shower, the sky covered over. A few minutes into the shower, husband shouts ‘There’s white stuff coming out of the sky!’ By the time I’m out of the shower, the sun’s beaming down again and everything looks bright and…green. He swears it snowed.
soft as feathers,
struggling with the sun,
against the inevitable