Author: Brent

Red squirrel
Shouting match
With the wind

Gray sky
Eclipsed by
The words in my head

Clouds passing
Across the golden face
Of the moon

Behind the wind’s howl
The sound
Of snowplows

Silent fog
Adding frosty layers
To my glasses

Pine boughs
Bending low beneath
The first snow

On the dim path
Bright strangers
Morning greetings

The forecast
Threat of storms
Wind in the trees

Two runners
Reflectors waving
In the dark

Crackling trail
Glowing poplars
Coming to light