Everything's frozen:
Pebbles and footprints in snow.
White field stands starkly.

The stream is frozen;
Even the shadows are ice.
The wind rules the woods.

Three old garbage pails:
Two are up and one lies down.
Mailbox flag is up.

Tree tops are shaking
Making ice wind visible;
Wood creaks all around.

Even shadows freeze;
No witch's tit was colder;
And still the sun shines.

Frantic chimney smoke
Puffed into the icy wind
Blows this way and that.

From whisper to roar
Ice wind speeds through the forest;
Then back to whisper.

Young blond with pigtails
Sits warming up her pickup.
Her pipes have frozen.