Under the blue snowshadows of winter
That sear the eyes with knife sharp edges
The same sun that shrinks the day’s palette
To grey white blue gold cold
Will bring the softer summer shadows
Creeping out from under hedges
The glass cold winter sun glares
At frozen ground beneath persistent snow
And finding that it cannot make it go away
Itself, goes
Back to hiding without end behind
The dour dull aspect of a winter day
Every day a week a winter month
Where grey and every shadow stay
Xanku 
some of these lines are extraordinarily visual and trip beautifully off the tongue – I guess the shadow sonnet was a step too far!
I tried, really I did, I have the crumpled up paper to prove it, but this is the poem that wanted to be written!