Mid-Winter Alone at the Farm

12:30 p.m., the house is silent;
Mist floats across the frozen field, fracturing the light.
The sun a few degrees above the forest, inching higher
drifting south, warming the midwinter afternoon –
Some have gone back to work, some shopping, to visit friends,
Driving the icy highways, hoping to arrive before dark.
Shadows sharp and long on the empty furrowed field –
Soon the sun will be trapped behind the grove of pines
At the property’s edge, casting a chill upon the house.
The mist rolls on, pressed to the earth by an unseen force.


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