Donned with winter jacket and gloves,
Cheeks and chin nipped by cold,
Off I go to mail a card or letter.
The frozen-shut, tin mailbox door
Loosens as I bang on its latch.
Warm greetings rest inside.
The stiffened flag raises with effort.
Stretches her forelegs,
Curls her claws into my jeans,
Pleading to climb up on my shoulder.
Fog hovers over the landscape.
Frost trims the evergreens.
Delicate icy crystals hug
The remains of summer’s last weeds.
Silent cows’ eyes follow my steps.
On my way to the house, I stop in my tracks
Listening to December’s chilling silence,
As winter’s grip tightens on the countryside.
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