Beatrice Connell

Hush-hush, the bare pine whisper.

Scritch, Scratch long bare branches scratch my window pane.

Moan; groan the wind howls like a zombie.

Crackle; snap the fire in the hearth grows with the dropping temperatures.

Purr, mew the cat enjoys herself inside not out.

Grr, bark the dog wants to hunt but there’s no prey, not till it’s warm.

Ding, ring the timer beeps the cookies are finally done.

Crunch, squish snows wet and slushy.

Sigh; ponder when is spring I start to think.

 


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