Shades of green, brown, yellow, orange
The death fall brings is beautiful withering
But winter's soft white blankets
Replace that beauty with monotone
And make the air too cold for moving
It freezes the soul
To be trapped inside walls
And only see only white under an infinite grey sky
I struggle to feel or want anything
But to exist for the purpose of staying warm
Until spring's promise is followed through
And the earth's plants thirsting for water and starving for sun
Emerge from melted snow to usher in warmth and color again.

As I look out at the window
I see a house across the street
Under the sun and trees
It’s chimney
Puffing out smoke
More then a cigarette
Ahhh winter
And it’s surreallness

As I look out the window
Beyound my couch
I see that there
Are perfectly
Preserved autumn leaves
In the winter scenery
Still on their trees
Left overs from
The previous
Autumn

As I was watching miserable
Netflix
I decide to talk a look
At the neighbours snowman
There eatting the snow man
Were three baby deer
This was the firs time I actually saw the deer
Without someone pointing them out

Winter spills over Kentucky
like a splash of liquid nitrogen

what eats is scarce because what's eaten is scarce
scavengers search trash cans—enjoying the warmth inside

ice scabs over fluvial lakes
once their revenue streams have been frozen

a faint, far away generator screams away the cold
like smokestacks on the horizon

(all that smoke must mean something
I figure something must be burning)

a fire burns somewhere—I'm not there
I'm here, and here, there's a fire over there

crimson cardinals appear through neutral trees
like I was struck in the head with a blunt object

darkness drifts overhead where geese drift away
as Kentucky loses consciousness

gauzy snow is wrapped around the state
—a cold compress for the fall's wounds

time heals all wounds
but is a wound itself.

In the sight of snowflakes
Landing on the trees
Sound of footsteps following away
No path is left and there's no right way

Shadow of the summer
Stalking down his prey
Quiet anger; but you can't say
By looking at his face

Not caring anymore what others think
Following his own pace
In the silent snowful forest
Slowly the sun stars to sink

A spell of bone cold
to remind us that a magic
rules all
our knotted muscles contract
as the frigid air kisses
with wool and other matters
we try to defend