Watchful Eye of Winter

It isn’t quiet yet it’s silent The raindrops and frogs ooze sound But the heaviness, the hushness, the cushioning violence Tell of monsters laying around To feel the transition to winter from fall Is not a temperature or petty sight It’s a feeling, it’s heavy, you can hear it’s call That strikes fear into the night Fall is friendly though perhaps cold, And the rain, a delicate drink Winter grabs the wood in a breath blocking hold Daring it to think For that is the feeling, the feeling of waiting Feeling watched, with eyes that burn rather than soothe Breath held in panic, hackles raise and hating Feeling watched in your every move