“Frigid Night” by Michael Britton

Cold, frigid night

Chugging and gasping against the wall of my breath.

The sharp air nips and bites my ear-curl

And freezes my eyeballs.


I pull my hat down a bit tighter to my skull box

As my knees become stiffened and bitter.

The worn soles of my boots crunch through the sleet-encrusted snow.

O tempest wind! Your fury ices my organs to their core.


Winter is a beast

And strong muscled as it wipes clean the trembling trees.

Voices ache and cry

And snap against the smothered snow…

and become silent.







Michael Britton is originally from Delaware, but currently lives in South Jersey with his wife and three cats.