Cold (version 1 and 2)

COLD

The weathervane rooster
Died last night
Froze its bronze heart in the spinning midnight cold.
I heard its last rusty screen
When the cat came
Stiff as January in the door
Rubbing winter on my leg

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COLD (FIRST VERSION)

The wind screeched, howled and bent the apple tree,
It was even too much for the cat.
Screeching and moaning.
The ground like broken light bulbs,
With every step.
The only thing soft was my breath.
Now the heater makes noise over the wind
Even the weathervane is quiet
He must have frozen
While I’m inside by the fire.