The tree limbs rattle against the wood framed windows.
Wind, warping it’s cries
cascading them around the foundation and frame of the building.
Sky, in shades of blackness and fog, overcast brushstrokes fade out along the fuzzed ring of a lone, distant light. Life outside a frosted fish bulb.
Electricity fails, shadows twist and gel in shapes furnished by the gentle sway of candle lights.
Everything waits
as the wind laughs,
in an otherwise still space.
For now.
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