Shrill, shrieking screams
Cold. Violent. Chilling
to hear in the distance
A sharp thud and another
and a scream and more
yelling I can’t understand…
As gentle flakes drift
and sway in the silent wind
A murder
of crows caw and bolt
into flight as the next
wail splits the silence.
Round white globes volley
back and forth
another thud
another scream
as I approach.
Fresh snow, two hands
A shocking cold spray of
force and wet hits your
cheek and sticks
to your glasses.
“Hey, no fair! I said not in the face.”
