Wednesdays are for poets
The Winter Wind
Wind: wild beast prowls 'round the corners and bangs on the shutters. I wait, under the bed, as the wind-beast drives Odin's weather to my door. It gnashes, whistles, shoves 'til my world narrows to one sound—a moan.
The door bars the wind. It prowls by my door.
By Cyn Bagley Dec 13, 2000
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