Swirling in great gusts
Snow smothers the night
Around my fragile home,
Curling high on steps,
Shrubs, potted plants.
Cold and wind,
Wind and cold;
Muffled nature everywhere
Save only moaning air
And hiss of frozen water.
I huddle behind panes
Of insulated glass,
Hoping I can feed
The shivering birds and beasts
Who’ve crept to shelter,
Praying I can feed myself
And keep my old bones warm
In this primeval dream
Of ages past when giant sloths
And woolly mammoths roamed.
©2021 John I. Blair, 2/26/2021
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