December 09, 2002

skeins of snow litter the dark field
ruts and mounds of muldering leaves
a moonscape landscape
the sky a cryptic shade
imprinted with doubt.

scourged trees sway in penitential bows
silverbacks coated with silver
croak, groan in the bending wind.

cold that demands Normandy invasion planning
gloves, ski-masks
smooth-soled shoes a mistake;
errant lurches from a pent-up dog
close-calls on ice
unpleasantness squared.

windy & nineteen degrees
thirty-seven in Galway.

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