Feet crunching, branches crackling
Wisps curl away from nostrils
Icy blasts freeze throats
Whiskers catch moisture
Fingers blue
Winter clouds race
Iridescence rises from a hidden pond
Whites and grays close in
Fox trails lead to empty rabbit holes
Wary glances behind look for pursuers
Inside trees the squirrels cozen to their nuts
Wendigo stalks in the gloom
Faltering steps shorten a lead
Watchful hungry eyes lock
Indifferent teeth chatter with anticipation
Warned, but not heeded, blood comes quick
–Poem by Art Griswold
–Foreground photo by Manuel Estheimaffiliate link trace | Aimé Leon Dore x New Balance 550 ‘Red’ — Ietp