WHERE THE WIND BLOWS

The trees of the forest shiver and shake.

Their long limbs tremble from the next quake.

Thick bodies blaze a glaring white.

Tears freezing from their new plight. 

The world has become hard and cold.

My trembling body feels old.

Surrounded on four sides by white. 

The bright glare blinded my sight.

White is the color of my nightgown.

I stand and shiver with a frown.

A shadow emerges from the trees.

I hope it is not him, pretty please.

My body moves forward against my will.

I grab a thick tree and try to hold still.

I dig my feet into the packed snow.

But I must go where the wind might blow.