Winter is a Carnivore
It’s twenty three below again.
The sugar frosted world bares its fangs,
gnaws at my window pane, leaving diamond scars
that will not heal till spring.
Its twenty three below again.
The winter wonderland erupts in a howl,
banshees at my door, keening incantations
that only endurance will lift.
It’s twenty three below again.
The fluffy blanket of snow drifts into traps,
wraps me in a carnivourous embrace
that sucks the heat from my marrow.
and I wonder one more time
what the temperature is in Arizona.
#23
Linda Studley 