ambiguous winter

 dusky, dewy evenings and the crisp winter fog, barrens the land residing inside, not quite lying in the periphery but the core 

crimson sunsets seem to be rare, although, vanity preserves rarity perhaps

no serenade reaches the beating land

the frost laden ground yearning to thaw

elusiveness of beauty, warmth

until when does this ambiguity persist? 

~h.