‘The Moon is Behind Me

At dawn

peering out 

bare tree

 framed

 window

Mercy –

 an illusion

no forest here

still, rabbit tracks

puncture ice

cracked snow

sunsets scry the

trees

warmth

slices

midwinter chill

Cedar lace

A bowl of

stars sprinkle

twilight

Green

Balsam

Purifies

 I need Sage

 Protection

 bad spirits

 conjured up

by Harpies

 all but one

 smile

as they twist

sharp knives 

draw blood

turn away

in glee.

One

screeches

as I turn

my back 

wordless

I fear too –

but cruelty

is not my way

Patriarchy

oozes Power

Compassion

Decency absent

Where to go

From here?