The chill factor is high.

On this bitterly cold February night

Jack Frost envelopes our house

Making his ghostly presence felt

Leaving his trademark sign on outer windows

While we are cosied up indoors

Close to home animals are seeking shelter

Farther afield homeless people are curled up

in sleeping bags, awaiting the next soup run

The Gods can become quite uneasy

They don’t always get it right

So the innocent inevitably suffer.

(c) Chris Black 2017.



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