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I’ve met the slow White hound
I’ve heard his haunting howl
prowl through November air
I shook his frigid paw
that came when bones were bare.

A gusty, spectral thief
of moments far too brief
his whispered pants enticed
and plumy tails left scrawls
a-tangle over ice.

He yelped a quick harangue
and pointed crystal fangs
he stole the autumn rays
denying hope of thaw
so glints of warmth would fade.

He shed his shadows here
and made gooseflesh appear,
he sketched on windowpanes
etched tales with frigid claws
of colors he had slain.

I wandered through the breadth
of  chilling, hunter’s breath
where daggers hung on eaves
and sawed the North wind raw
and browned the autumn leaves.

I’ve been surprised by bites
his glacial appetite
and found his muted dye,
a blinding livid shawl
O’er corpses petrified.

I’ve heard the White Hound moan
and chew on arbor bones
and shivers seized my spine,
tight-clenched within his jaw
as Winter swathed my mind. 




experimental rhyme scheme:

Stanza 1 -aabcb
Stanza 2 -ddece
Stanza 3 -ffgcg
Stanza 4 -hhici
Stanza 5 -jjkck
Stanza 6 -llmcm
Stanza 7 -nnoco

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