TheOld YearIs finished.She closed her eyesAnd wrapped herself inA robe of ice and wind.As she dreamed of renewal,We shivered in the frigid nightAnd cried out for the warmth of the sun. Editor: Michelle Naragon & Shannon Hensley  

Snow runoff flows downHill from my driveway to theCow pasture. I standIn the middle and watch winterWash away around my shoes.

Sunshine blinds and the skies are sparkling blue. Don’tbe fooled: it’s frigid. Photo courtesy of Mohamed Hassan from Pixabay.

The road is wet butcrystals adorn my windowSnow falls on the ridge.Like curtains, it opens to reveal winter’s intentions.