15 Feb

Winter lingers upon my windowsill. 

Stillness creeps across a frozen creek. 

A cackling crow breaks the silence,  

As a layer of ice cracks 

Open to a chilled current.

 A raccoon skips across the rocks

 Never needing a new toboggan 

To warm his furry noggin. 

Bandits are on the prowl 

Looking for a haunted house 

To warm their tiny paws. 

Maybe they will find yummy garbage, 

A stick of gum or Italian sausage. 

With no one home they will have their fill. 

Winter’s bleakness just might hide a thrill 

That feeds the belly and warms the heart.

 Oops, a raccoon has to barf.

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