The cold wind owned the day.
Sniggering, sliding icicle ghost
against my cringing neck,
he bent me beneath his gray face;
pale narcissus was humbled,
hanging face in humility
at his own audacity
to dare flaunt with pride.
Even the audience trees paid homage
with chins drawn tight to chest
with a curious tilt of head.
Icicle ghost. Leo, you are brilliant.
Thanks for visiting, Susan. Please be careful with the words you use concerning my writing; frankly, old men are are susceptible to getting the “big head”. Age hasn’t taught me a thing! Hope to be back reading and commenting soon; busy putting in new kitchen and floors. Leo
Let that head grow, Leo. You deserve it. Happy remodeling.
Belated Words 
Love to have a comment!