The Snowstorm

Flakes of white washing down from above. No one can tell when will it stop. Winds crazily blowing against the window, intend to break, but not an effort made, then go into the woods become the howling shadows. Moon shines from the night sky with creepy smile Such shape and curve, reminds me of the blade that I used to cut meat into pieces and put on the plate. Outside the house, an opening field Ocean of white, is what my eyes can feel. Winds still screaming, as they are crawling. I suddenly see shadows and shapes, firmly standing. Seems lifeless, but I am sure they are moving. My foe, my woe. Men or demons, I don't know. Perhaps, no more. The Sparkling fire in the stove, is giving me the chill.