Full Moon on a Cold Night

Dead leaves rasp like claws upon the windowsill.
The heater's blowing, and so is the lispy wind.
A fire would be nice; a body, nicer.
Books like blocks of ice are stacked along the walls.
Question of the day: Will there be snowflakes?
Doors stay shut to foil the vagrant draft.
Fleecy pants are ready if they're needed.
A wedge of geese cries out and cleaves the sky.
The owls have not been heard for quite a while.
The marigolds in pots are dry and brown.
Without a net the dreamer chases titmice.
The searchlight moon monotonously shines.
The clock in imitation tracks its progress.
Nine hours till the sun reclaims the throne.
No visitor would dare disturb this night.

Reviews

[PatrickPink]

This is a really well controlled piece, using some wonderful language to describe the details of the night. I particularly liked the "wedge of geese" image, with them cleaving the sky. It's atmospheric, powerful, and evokes images of cold cabins bound by snow. I love it!