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Whether Report

whether report on the first day of December wind howled banshee death screams wuthering at windows whiteouts shroud the cabin from a cumbersome world cold clambers up the steps creeps under my front door settles in my soul I must leave.

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Freddie Robinson Jr.

Date: 10/24/2017 1:26:00 PM

This poem chills on layered levels of thought, Pat. Very cool introspective write. Good mental exercise. Ty for the workout. Lovely poem. Love and joy always.

Patricia Cresswell
Date: 10/24/2017 6:42:00 PM

Within a year or less I went from living in Toronto in a town house to living in a cottage, on a road with only one other couple a ways down the road. There were no street lights so at night it was dark! My husband worked 3 shifts so every 3 weeks i was alone except for two small dogs. I had some things to get used to, thank you for reading and commenting.

Maureen Mcgreavy

Date: 10/23/2017 9:28:00 PM

A chilling pen in such poetic ways, the title titillating, brief, crisp, fantastic. xomo!

Maureen Mcgreavy
Date: 10/23/2017 9:46:00 PM

Lol! ;p

Patricia Cresswell
Date: 10/23/2017 9:39:00 PM

I remember that night it was my moment of truth. Truth was I was freezing my derrier. Not just the pen chilled that night