The window glass

The snow breathed heavy that day,
a jolt of icy white confetti celebrating
winter’s return. Paralyzed by the cold,
we watched, transfixed by the beauty
and ferocity, as winter played out
its first act. Dazzled by the scene, I reached
as if called, for the cold, 
the glass chilly and inhospitable 
on my fingers as I tapped myself 
into the performance.

A stag, startled, heard my intrusion
and stared at us, a spark of terror 
in his eyes, hoofs frozen in fluffy earth. 
Nothing moved as he stood 
staring in a stupor as snow and tree limbs 
cascaded around those antlers, majestic 
and stock-still. What bravery to survive
the savagery spitting numbing flakes
on a naked face.

Just as suddenly he stirred from his bluff
and disappeared behind the stormy curtain,
forever relieving me of his second act. 
And I, roused and staring only at
my own reflection in the poorly insulated
window, resolved to buy some weather strips
and better protect myself from 
nature’s cruelty.

---

Phillip Knight Scott | © 2019

Written for Sue Vincent’s Thursday photo prompt : “calling”