F.W.I.W. (as seen in Literary Orphans, issue 5 – Satchmo)

Direct link to the magazine: Satchmo

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


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