Taunts Me
Dawn taunts me
Sleet pelts me
Insulated coveralls
peppered
As sky spits on me
December's rudeness
Falls heavy on land
Bracing for heavy
hand
Cold slap across
face
Silence except
tinselly noise
Sleet quietly
playing on brown sleeve
I taunt the sky
Parading the dog
about ten acres
I'm fully awake in
our daily ritual
She is impervious
Dampness slide off
her coat
As she sniffs and
explores
Soon her night watch
over
My day begins
When start the car
I'm already far away
About the
Author: Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and
is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet. (16-351C)
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