Poem Hunter
AB ( / )


that magic smell of
burnt wood
hangs over the antiseptic snow
as we walk and pull our sleds
the dog is
smiling and running
off a blinded white cliff drift
aerodynamically flying
into a snowy bank
that launches us
into laughter so hard
we can hardly stand
the fridged air
ripping through our chest
but the pain
is pure pleasure
as we make our way
to find
our faithful companion
buried up to his teeth
seeing only his
black eyes
poking thru the white

User Rating: 3,4 / 5 ( 11 votes ) 4

Comments (4)

Saved by a loving keeper and a wonderful poet 10 from, me Love duncan
Poor frostbitten fridged pooch. Nicely done poem. Best regards-Mike Gale.
I feel so much fun in this!
Can almost feel the freeze.............Nicely done. Sincerely, Mary