Frost’s bite

When the first wave came and pulled a soul away, I continued on searching for shells in its wake. When the winds revved up and took someone else, I cried for the chickens who had to wait in the mud for me to rebuild their coop. When the bolt struck town square splitting one into two, I asked all the neighbors if my favorite tree burned, too. When the chill took my own, I froze where I stood. Icicles formed over head. The robins outside my window were replaced by sullen ravens. The sun stopped rising altogether. When the dark took me, I understood better. The eye of a hurricane hitting hardest at its center. The outskirts of a tornado splintering walls but not a brother. Grief sizzling in the coals of a fire, glowing stronger than the flames themselves. And frost’s bite, though sometimes peaceful and quiet, reaches everything on Earth, regardless of shelter.