Tundra

The sun is setting

like a halo over the horizon

an explosion of red, orange and pink

contrasting the white,

of a freshly fallen snow.

Branches glistened with ice,

faded scents of wild flowers

linger in the air

frozen into a lifeless calm,

anticipating spring.

As the sun sets,

the valley no longer,

blushes with hope

the stillness of the air,

has a haunting glare of apathy.

A tundra,

lost and forgotten.

Darkness kisses the valley,

and the trees with a dreary breeze.

The only light, the moon,

showering the misty tundra

with greyish, blue beams

of desolation.