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Below Zero

by Kevin T. McEneaney
Wed Dec 27th, 2017

Cold moon riding high, bright over small hill,

snow crunching underfoot , an owl hooting

like a bearer of benevolent will

amid frozen shadows, tree twigs groping

like frozen fingers at pitch-black darkness.

Yet morning sunlight glinting on crystals

magnifies the rays with blinding glitter,

while frost makes the touch of metal bitter

on trash can covers, railings without glove,

as flint-shredded snow swirls from roof above.

The concept of zero evaporates

like breath dispelled in air or morning mists.

There’s a harsh, bleak beauty in frightful cold

which creates wry humor: caustic, brief, droll.