One of the winter-themed poems from the creative writing class I took last fall. I have several of these, and I'll be posting them over the next couple of months.
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Feel winds, so cold that nothing else matters
howling, menacing, winter's call persists.
The quiet illusion of red and gold
subjugated by winds so cruel and cold.
Autumn's gentle breeze, soft as kittens' fur
gives rise to winter winds like lions roar.
The tickling, calming and playful fall gusts
are now furious cold winds no one trusts.

Yet some find beauty in this new display
in the snowflakes which surf the winds and skies,
like they're swimming through a grand ocean blue.
Others call winter's gale a sad, lonely cry.
Despised, cherished, honored or scorned this wind
lasts only till ivory turns to green.