A cold, cold day

A bitterly bitter wind

The inquiring look

On the face of a cat

As I stride

Downhill

Conquering the territory

Of the unconquered

Mill

The grinding mill

Covered in layers
of 100% wool
The label
on the back
says
Merino

Yet I'm chill to the bone
and my lips won't move
the words
are stuck
on my
chilly worn out
brim
you need to
read my face
my eyes
my determined gaze
I am curious
about what you gather
and I am eager
to see it reflected back
in your stance