Iowa Winter

Updated: Jan 12

Swishing though fresh dry powder my heart leaps at the roaring silence of oak trees as I brush by their
trunks Suddenly—I’m startled by a god-like presence high up on a leafless throne that commands
me to stop and bow Turning his head slowly a great horned owl alerts his forest kingdom
with a warning of hoots breaking through descending twilight For a single
moment the world is hushed and perfect I sigh— knowing it’s time to head back home and face
a blinking answering machine with news i
do not want to hear

Rosemary Roenfanz

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