Winter Haven
by Michael Escoubas

The aroma of home is in the air,
coal-oil furnace
puffs its pungent scent as rabbits

leave paw prints in soft, sifting snow.
Sky above
the tree line is dressed in a gown

of purple chiffon trimmed in orange.
I scrape frost with
my fingernails from the windowpane.

Boughs of snow-covered pines bend
low beneath
the season’s weight as naked oaks

endure the cold. Corn-stubble hides
the ring-necked pheasant
from peril of hunters and bird dogs.

Today I rise to burbles of percolating
coffee, bacon grease
popping; I look from my window,

snow is falling, children laughing,
on sleds, delirious on Christmas day.


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