Do Not Fear Winter’s Dogs

The dogs
of Winter are
howling at the window.
A blustering pack,
kicking about
the snow drifts.
Leaning against trees
chasing fallen leaves
across the meadow.
Snarling with bone chilling
breath, the bark
a hoarfrost cry.
Clawing, sweeping down
the snow capped peaks
and mountain flanks.
They run in fear of
their bearded brooding master
in the Northwestern sky.
Silly dogs,
Spring holds your lease,
fear April and the flowers.

Copyright: 2008, Donald Harbour

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