At Minus One
AT MINUS ONE
Pin drop quiet
Feather white ground
Yesterday’s prints half-filled
We wend home
Arm in arm
Pointing out stars
Always there
But seeming crisper
Just below zero
Then the corner
Hiding the big spruce
A distant dog barks
The tree breeze
Hisses him to silence
A darkened window
Lights up warmly
And we close arms
Shuffling home
...........................................
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