Winter is Haunting

by Emory Oakley


Mug scurries from anxious hands,
newspaper headlines splash across
the table, eyes creep elsewhere.
It's morning, yet light from street lamps
still reach through windows.
Winter is haunting.  
Grass lounges, laps up rain- thirsty,
wrist watch runs wild.
I am motionless. Boots grunt
in the doorway, backpack begs for s hug.
I am motionless.
Pants chirp like a caged bird,
sweatshirt sits untouched,
toque begs to play.
Ears choose ignorance.
Responsibilities hide
in the knife drawer.