by Patricia Fargnoli
Should the Fox Come Again to My Cabin in the Snow
Then, the winter will have fallen all in white
and the hill will be rising to the north,
the night also rising and leaving,
dawn light just coming in, the fire out.
Down the hill running will come that flame
among the dancing skeletons of the ash trees.
I will leave the door open for him.
please note: art by kjhayler