Scene Description Paragraph:

                I opened my window to observe the scenery that lies outside. The ground is, of course, powdered in snow from the fresh flurry that continues to fall. It is windy, and the cold seeps into my room. I can almost feel the chill in my bones. The snow has been scantily cleared as usual, with bits and pieces of bare ground exposed and bordered by a degree of wet slush and ice. Footprints in the snow lay as evidence the paths people walk through when treading through the parking lot. The more frequently the path is used, the deeper, the uglier, and more numerous the prints. For now however, no one walks through the lot. The trees are bare, as is typical of most trees in the winter, and snow rests upon every branch I can see. They are light in color, a sort of faintness in color that reminds me of death, though I know they just slumber. The few cars that traverse the parking lot in front of Shen carefully follow along the track-worn snow of the vehicles before them. Those that are parked wear a fluffy white cap, waiting for the inconvenienced owner to come along and brush it off so that they may get to wherever it is they’re going. Were it not for the fences and trash cans betraying its presence, no one would be able to tell that Houghton has an outdoor tennis court. It hides under the snow until the arrival of spring and warm weather, where it will be utilized again. Someone makes their way out of Shen Hall, bag in hand. It appears to be a small, brown, leather laptop case. It is however, noticeably thicker than if it only had a laptop in it, indicating there are likely to be books and paper inside. The person himself wears a grey pea coat and black (probably) leather gloves. He makes his way down the deepest, ugliest path of footprints that lay in front of Shen.     

Poetry

Poetry. Poetry is to words what an image is to the colors it consists of. It is an arrangement and expression of words that conveys that which the poet wishes to portray. Poetry is a song that is not sung, a painting that can not be seen. It is art expressed through nothing but ideas and the voice that speaks it. It's ambiguity makes it beautiful and sparks the mind to take a hold of it and understand it. Poetry is therapy, poetry is life. Poetry is anything that is beautiful in words. Poetry is a complex business with simple design. Poetry is what we make of it to be.