Cold Wind

           Cold Wind

Cold wind caresses face.
Body leans, propped and braced.
Cheeks redden as cool burns.
Direction headed reluctant to turn.

Bite of air, trudge along.
Chill requires motivation strong.
Each inhaled breath creates an ache.
Each exhaled breath leaves a foggy wake.

Eyes water in the breeze.
Squinting narrows vision, tears freeze.
Alive and aware in raw place.
No longer numb from routine, welcome grace.

About the Author:  Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.

Image is of Melody, a quarter horse on the ranch in the frigid winter.