Sunday Scribblings: A Winter's Tale

The prompt over at Sunday Scribblings is Winter Tale. I confess, I wrote this sometime back and it kind of got lost in the shuffle. I’ve made major tweaks here.


Icicle Views
Icicles hang like spindly glass fingers from frozen gutters.
Snow blankets things like the mower, the good summer Adirondacks. Frozen in time. A long time ago.
This is my view, from the kitchen window.
Where I am frozen, too. Hands on sticky tile, covered in dirty dishware.
What’s the point?
Boot prints still echo in the snow, up the path to the mailbox.
Where the envelope came.
Not so long ago? I can’t remember now.
I just know that this view is getting monotonous. Cold.
And the handgun’s nickel-metal finish is now warm against my hip.

4 comments:

Quin Browne said...

nickle metal is the coldest phrase in the piece.

tumblewords said...

For sure, the winter view. Dark, low, deep and cold. I love the way it moves back and forth in time, exposes a little at a time.

Lucy said...

wo! didn't expect that last line!
good job thom.

missalister said...

Late out the gate I find another super-flash here full of choice word combinations from the zone. A direct line you’ve got, to things like boot prints echoing. The question maddens and the kicker goes blam.