A Walk Poem by Ian Keenan

Winter turns leaves swish
Like corn flakes kicked around,
Frosted paths moistened by the snow.
Straight stark trees,
Light broken by a hand
Upon my face.

A hill -
Below the feet
The never sleeping growth;
Breath hung on my shoulder,
Tugging at my sleeve.

Clouds leaning on the sun,
Big and bony winds
Assault the weak,
The mouths of warrens choke
With humus,
A white hand holds.

The dog barks,
Squirrels run,
A train throws back
The shouts of children;
Your small hand warms
Beneath my shirt.