white, ashen,charcoal berms
to the left
to the right
everywhere in sight.
little tail-wagger
pulling at it’s lead
owner nervous indeed.
hot steamy mustard stains
pains to walk around.
disregarded rides peaking out,
entries frozen shut.
mukluk, brogan, boot impressions
paint the path.
naked saplings fractured,
boskage leaning on each other
like bashed rabble.
neighbors babble
in their yards.
portico glistening with
crystal fingers tripping
my feet.
doorknob frigid
in my grasp.
By Lynn Hahn
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