Winter Trails

Shelter

Cans rolled all last night, gust boomed, gale spat wet,
ran repertoire of shrieks and snarls and moans,
though, in fairness, kept the howling pack home,
and nothing stirred within these quiet rooms.

Now still they swagger, hoarse and fitfully:
I hear them banging down the street; then, "Ooooo!"
Hazels shake wild trails over a swathed sun
who jewels-up rain-spatter on the pane
and seeks out lenses of my spectacles.

With padded teamwork, clouds soon interpose:
I watch his bright struggles to break free,
close my eyes to experience the circus
of gust, tree, gale, cloud and sun, flickering
within my eyelids, a rosy shelter.

........