Winter has frozen
all movement outside.
Cold creeps into my cabin
and I wake to tend the fire,
poking at coals, adding kindling.
A whiff of smoke puffs
back at me and I taste
the acrid woody warmth.
Hidden away
from the clanking,
honking, rush
of our yesterday
I breathe
air that smells washed
clean with a hint of pine.
The dawn catches no sound
not even the trickle of water
nor your absent snore
and from my frosted window I see
a crystal world of unsoiled prospects.
--- Judi Van Gorder
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2nd place Round 59 
