Donning winter clothes
And abandoning the warmth,
We head towards an open space:
Crunch of snow,
Frozen face,
Flakes on eyelashes
And numb toes.
Only pigeons brave the chill,
Flapping ahead
On the crest of a hill.
Giving chase in a flurry,
Steaming with loud
Yapping as they scurry,
We are surrounded
By Christmas and damp dogs.
© Kim M. Russell, 2015