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.
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