dogtrax

Tucked beneath blankets in maelstrom hibernation, an alarm bell rings

Tuned in, listening, the voice frequency sputters on about a storm

for Algot

Pebbles in water look distorted; the ocean tries to hide beauty

A drop of water, now released by sun and thaw, leaves the ice behind

Never is quiet a moment of nothingness; something always sings

Walking through a grove of bare trees, stripped of jackets, and shivering leaves

Basking in the light of silver from a Wolf Moon, every tree – waiting

Cook another loaf of crusty bread, the scent of baking fills the home

Long after the fire, smoke lingers – a reminder of the world, before

Snowflakes; bits of dust that come rushing in the wind, eluding the brush

for Algot