Periwinkles Winter like a frosty morning, heating brown vines that grow onto cold trees. The white roots like twine, grip deep in soil that crumbles,
As clay falls apart bit by bit.
The thin green stem flows
in the breeze like a flexible straw,
as green as a cactus can be.
Leaves falling slowly
Like a snail catching the bus.
Gold pollen taken by busy bees,
As fast as a cheetah.
Edged with shimmer
made from wishes.
By Kari . Y