CHILLED
the winter fields
are flat and cold
snow clouds stretching
long as banners
Dad hated this time of year.
He’d come home, and soak
his feet in a dishpan of hot
water and epson salts..
He was a postman.
this weather rushes
on us with its wild eyes
ice pecking our face
I always think of Dad at this
time of year. And now I also
think of Mum. Both gone.
cold is a colour
it’s abstract and
absolute, it sinks
in the ground
Twiglet #156 Tails like banners. ©️ Misky 2019
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