A whining wind right out of a gothic novel,

Wrapping its fingers around my camper,

Door & windows locked against intrusion,

No light from the moon nor stars,

A fearful lump in my throat, on the road no cars…

Pulled into this rest area for a break,

The snow and sleet to much to anymore fight,

The dog and I about to eat a steak,

The wind passes again, rattling the rig, not too polite…

Closing all the curtains & shades,

In this manner of the outside we evade,

Cannot can we see the sharpness of the winds blades,

We both after dinner curl up in bed, under the covers,

To avoid the snow and wind from the depths of Hades…

Awakening on the morn next,

After a fitful night of nightmares complex,

Outside we look into a world of bright white,

Are we still in the same place as last night,

So many new things outside, unable to explain most objects,

Oh my goodness, is that the footprint of a tyrannosaurus rex…

© ed ~ 1/28/07