201: Slow Changes Disappear

The snow is twelve inches deep where people don't walk. Winding paths disappear under layers and layers, only visible by the outline of littered ditches. The trees are naked. Squirrels and robins, forgotten by the flashing news feeds, rustle through the branches. An elderly lady throws them imported acorns across the fence. The gates are shut again.

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Written by: Katrine Hjulstad

Instagram: @katrinehjulstad

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Publisher's note: All poetry published with Eudaemonia Records has been viewed and commented on by our editors. Ultimately, however, we believe that it is the writer's decision to accept or reject any suggestions made by the editors, and therefore take no responsibility for the final product.