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Tucked safe within my small abode
warmed by the snap and hiss of fire
as sleet peppers the old tin roof
sparks escape the contained pyre

Within the flames my mind drifts off
upon a tide of winter sound
and settles on the sylvan lands
as, outside, ice covers the ground

Ice that tinkles like wind chimes
when it falls from frozen trees
shaken off of shivering limbs
by the first chill morning breeze

I think about the last big snow
the muted hush of snowflakes' fall
as they build to soft white drifts
disturbed by naught but lone crow's call

And silence....................
so cold and quiet that it rings
the jackfrost squeaking as it rises
drowned by a thousand starling wings

The dense cold air makes all sounds clear
wood pecker knocks on a dead tree
the scolding bark of a gray squirrel
jumping limb to limb so free

Then morning sun thaws out the land
causing melting frost to patter
and old joints pop on this late morn
(as if their protests ever matter)

A distant crunch of tires on gravel
which stops before a chainsaw roars
nearly drowning axe's chops
as wood is split in twos and fours

Then muffled voices, job complete
the rattle of an old full truck
as it leaves with fireplace fuel
enough to last a month with luck

After this brief stark intrusion
a bit of breeze begins to blow
whispering through the ridge top pines
sighing through old hardwoods down below

A few bare limbs begin to rattle
and here comes the bay of hounds
singing as they chase a rabbit
over rough and briery grounds

At last the shadows start to grow
the wind nows ceases gentle blow
I hear some cattle start to low
signaling it's time I go

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Last few words: 
Just a fancified list poem
Editing stage: 


although this is a suberb nature poem, I had a bit of trouble with these lines:

and lands upon the sylvan lands
(usage of the word lands twice)

when it fall from frozen trees
(when it fall(s) from frozen trees)

over rough andbriery grounds
(missing space)

favorite verse:

And silence....................
so cold and quiet that it rings
the jackfrost squeaking as it rises
drowned by a thousand starling wings

and the ending is wonderful

always, Cat

When you fling poo, some of the stink sticks to you!

"The Book of Styx" can be ordered and purchased on line at:

Thank you for the typo catches and pointing out the reuse of lands. Will fix forthwith..............stan

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