Snow from soot-licked skies rests            on frost-edged shadows.
Wind winds at the sill like a cat,            begging in. Bare soles lap at boards.


A black jewel caws and flicks            its folded wings. It sidesteps,
eye on the frosted fields.            You spy the sunrise stretch,
sly, over the brown horizon            and breathe
at dawn-licked spaces            between pillows.   


Eyes greet the crow that crouches,            crooked and craven, lilting on a tree.
Then cold (and crow) are gone            like seasons that slink past;
like winter work mornings            that cannot be avoided.


Extra seconds of fender-to-fender -           chance for thought.
The winking wild-lights, faces (flash&           fade) -


Whisper 'hush' to the world.