it is still fall but the first winter storm
rattles windows fists of cold wind smash past
glass an arm reaches through a hand brushes
gainst breast cold dew breath on neck raises flesh
wind chimes warn now first drops of rain splish splash
splish
splash
splish
splash
splish splash splash
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ABOUT Art Predator aka Wine Predator aka bikergogal aka head coach at The Write Alley aka Compassionate Rebel:
A yogini cycling activist mama, I teach college, love wine, attend Burning Man, seek Hot Springs & blog about that which engages my soul. I'm a writing coach who can help you discover how to make your writing shine!
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art predator 
Cool poem. There is an eerie sense of foreboding, like the storm is creeping ghostlike.
I like the minimalism beyond splishes and splashes …
from where I am siting now I can feel this poem
(though by now the rain is frozen)
sounds cold, Annamari!
thanks, Paul for noticing the eeriness and forboding. the storm could really do me damage…and i wanted to convey that fear, the dread, the sense of being violated in my home where i live
Don’t fix it. Let it be. Just for one more season. Describe the days you see through there.
oh, my Rick! that’s asking a lot! the window cracked, hmmn, 2001? yes, when i was painting my house and a friend was helping and bumped it. and this is the second or maybe even third winter it’s had a chunk out of it…so it gets covered up–like now in bubble warp that the 5 year old didn’t get to first!
okay maybe fix it. i’m liking your poems. thanks for the reciprocal visit and your kind words.
thanks, rick.
the window is fixed thanks to my local Fuller Paint and Glass! yay! he also fixed the crank on another window, replaced 2 with cracks, and advised on two others…lots warmer now!