In the cold stark light
of a January moon
sweat and teardrops
add to the sparkle
that 8 degrees
lends to the pavement
and I run
The fear and insecurity
reflected from the eyes
of the solitary doe
speak volumes in understanding
Battery drained
steam from the effort
the solid crunch below
alone and insignificant
beneath the January moon
and on I go
into the darkness
of cold understanding.

Author April Wells
Published January 22, 2016