It comes on cool nights. Crawling

over the mountains it devours

with an insatiable appetite. Disturbing,

disorientating and foreshadowing more

to come. It creates solitude separating

neighbors from the rest of the world

thick and white like the cushioned

walls of the loony bin. Shadows stalk

behind the gauze curtains. Ice tendrils trace

my spine. They're everywhere. Coming

closer. Those shadows behind the curtain.