Wind, Chaos and All Between

1.

Tossed snow against the

door:  she felt the frozen

cold in her hair on the

back of her neck, she lowered

her finger to the doorbell,

listened.

2.

Hard: the shutter of the

leafless trees, like the

wind's hanging harsh whisper,

no footsteps inside:  nothing

she could fallenly feel.

3.

The glue softened: she did

feel the delicate pieces of

the album start to crack,

like priceless china, like

glass.

4.

She raised her frost-like finger,

leaned into the bell:  she pushed

it, pushed it, then pounded on the

door with both fists, injuring her

freezing self in the colding process:

silence inside, not a creak, no light

flashing on the snowdrifts:  the house

shifted, almost showered itself in the wind.