Winter cold

By Brad Dickenson

I feel the cold winter’s hand
Sliding up my back
With my hairs erect.
A heightened awareness
Calm yet chilling
The feeling I’m not alone
A creaking door
A drip from a leaky gutter
A crackling noise outside in my yard
Deafening silence
The fire place chills down
My warm bed just turned to ice
My silent, invisible visitor.

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