Hoarfrost flowers on the stubble, and catches first light as it glints off the snow-filled furrows.
beneath the cloud-shadow's slow blue
is a privacy turning outward, unfolding -
like the shape of water overflowing
a leaf-clogged gutter - how it freezes
in the moment of its fall.
This quiet as the streetlight clicks off,
and the gray horse, its mane hatched in ice slivers,
tears at the bent, shagged stalks.