Dec 19. 4.30 pm. Stiff NW wind. 11ºF.
wind roars
through the oak branches
at the edge of the woods,
ripping the remaining leaves
off the trees
while the dogs hunt voles
hunkered in the fence line
snow drifts.
a greedy wind
pries loose my body heat
to give to the deepening
darkness.
Great sensory imagery here Kevin
Thanks, Kevin! I'm a sucker for poems that follow WCWilliams' dictum: No ideas but in things. So I'm trying to practice some.