Peninsula

Crunching steps
on frozen paths,
the wind’s teeth in the soft of the ear, 
aching with the news of children 
slaughtered under the guise of peace.

The coyotes venture out
to feed in the crusted snow,
stopping at the sound of the waves;
a long drink of water after a parched night.  

A howl unleashes on this edge
of cliff and sea, 
despair rising through the long Winter air.

Claiming this peninsula 
as Sanctuary.

Taken the morning of 2/28/26 in Owls Head, ME