Winds whispering through a thicket at dusk.

Amazed at its force and mysterious origin.

Last slivers of light cede to inky darkness.

Frozen ground crunches beneath my feet.

No place to be on a moonless January night.

Did you cause the deep freeze of earth and sky?

Embers without flame, left cold and desolate –

Thirsting for spirits elsewhere, in unknown parts.

Heard the whistling wind mocking me, a ruse,

For me to claw, crawl and dig at a seeming loss.

Some losses are gains I remember Grandma often said.

The wisdom and comfort of the homestead carries me now.

Copyright (c) J. L. Smyth January 6, 2018