alone in the house in winter by john grey

Out of gray and mournful sky,

a month’s snow falls in a day.

Birds don’t dare leave their roosts.

Not even the fastest of them

can fly between the flakes.

With ice in its engine,

the wind is sharp.

Dead leaves attempt to ride

the billowing to escape,

but are mercilessly tamped down.

Rabbits nibble on

the last of a garden.

Mice burrow down

wherever the earth will have them.

The house sends

smoke signals out the chimney

from the fire I light.

The warmth of the flame

barely extends beyond my rubbing hands.

7 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

writer interview with Emily Franklin

Opal Literary: Discuss your journey to becoming a writer, including any tips for those considering it as a career path. Emily Franklin: I started writing at a very young age, publishing my first poe

Cheshire Cat by Arsimmer MCcoy

Don’t ever mistake me again. My smile is not an invitation for baseless declarations. It is the black silk slip my mama made me wear, under my dress for church, so no one could see through to m

Untitled by Bells

My eyes follow the green glow of his kitchen walls as I lay on the floor, The smell of his compost And our dying bouquets leaking Into my nostrils Like cigarette smoke hiding Behind a set of teeth. ​