New Level of Cold

As I leave the house,
Warm air mixes with the cold.
I am in two worlds.

End of the driveway;
Blue package waits in the cold.
Inside, the hot news.

Above flowing stream,
Clear icicle is hanging--
New level of cold.

Shade of the pine tree--
Morning shadows in the sun,
Make it seem less cold.











Still, dead leaves hang on,
On this freezing winter day.
Do they wait for Spring?

A large fat old crow
Sits confidently on tree
Squawking to himself.











Rarely I look up
To see the towering hill
That always looks down.

Only the wind speaks,
Rolling hollow through the woods.
All sounds are frozen.