cold came at us like a rabid dog,
jaws snapping.
the barn’s blood froze in its veins —
scared stiff.
Aldo spoke of January’s thaw,
with silvery tinkle,
but Sand County’s mid-winter must
be more benevolent than ours.
eye whites glittering,
this one is intent on doing us harm.
it piles morning fire in drifts
against the door,
a crunching growl
beneath our heels,
waits to see if — blinded—
we’ll confuse light with warmth a second time.
Thanks for reading. Please clap, follow me or enjoy another poem.
🐝 beth
