Guest post by Taylor Graham. Thank you my friend.
DECEMBER STORM
Daylight thin as tap-water,
as gray hairs through a comb.
Phone and power out
since yesterday. Snow
to shovel; driveway a barricade
of broken oak limbs.
Sun’s an asperity, red eye
of weather’s bird of prey.
On the deck, sparrows
hunker on their bellies,
pecking seed. Shall I
donate my hands to warm
them? But my fingers
have been taken by the cold.