Decemberpoem

Silence shrouds the land, steel gray clouds hang low overhead, and the air smells of snow. A jay, strangely silent peers down from newly naked branches. To the west, geese fly in rag tag formation not even bothering to V. Entering the cedars, I leash the dogs as the air smells of skunk, Our breath hanging just shy of steam, as a solitary crow flaps across the red-flecked eastern horizon. Suspended, waiting for winter to come.