Fields, frozen ridges,
Ripples across a lake,
Winter and the fish go
Deep, leaves like cold
Butterflies curl into
Edges, brittle nostrils
Flair, air hurts when
Inhaled, notice how
A pasture can be so
Empty of cows grazing
Steadily from barren land,
The hardscrabble road,
A pause in the solid
Wind causes the barn’s
Fast-anchored arrow to
Slip its balance and the
Compass spins around
Death, one loses all
Sense of direction.