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Poem

It creaks,
drifts have rubbed the air raw
it crunches
as if some large beast were walking
over the packed snow.

All night listening        had to
it could have been a robber
an ice-cold housebreaker
I can't sleep
when the night walks like this.

They say
there are lots of frozen people
dying somewhere,
I imagine the wind carrying their last words
across the empty fields,
they are going somewhere
and I don't think it's anywhere good.

Get up
stare out into the black,
outback
the bare-boned trees
rattle leafless twigs like dentures
all buried now
            in the heaped and falling.

Morning slides in stiffly
                        dragging light
over the dark stained ice.

Then a late sun opens wide a white sky
pretty now.....yes it’s all lovely
of a sudden.

I look for foot or paw prints
listen for the creaking's
there are none
the recently dead
            also 
            are soundless.

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