Bone Freeze
Bent and bundled
in the cold woods. Hot breath
rolling out white ghosts.
Among the tall and grey boned -
these shadow-less trees
freeze framed
under a grey cowl sky.
Hungry woods are these
that swallow sound, churn
it into sleep-waking words.
Snow groans in the tree-tops.
A wolfish wind numbs,
I wish I could enter
any cardboard box
in any homeless town.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment