The barn cats, huddled and hungry, have not ventured forth to beg in the dooryard today. The stalwart horses, shaggy in their winter coats and snugged in blankets, have chosen to remain in the shelter of their run-in stalls— those hard-wired grazers who prefer to spend days in search of remaining blades of green beneath the snow.
Even Wolf, of Siberian ancestry —built for the inhospitable, the brittle— ventured out in the morning, but resigned to coil himself in a windless corner of the porch rather than roam the fields as he usually does..
The frost is holding fast. The cold, recently settled in, is absolute. So too the clear blue of the cloudless sky. Not a single drip today from an earlier day’s sun-melt row of icicle teeth. Not even at noon on the south-facing eaves.
e daggar art: THE MUSEUM 
Brrrrr
I like those last four sentences very much…”row of icicle teeth” has a good menacing sound to it, especially right after mentioning wolf & Siberian.
Thanks so much, I appreciate it, and glad you enjoyed.
what makes it interesting to me is I can’t figure out the scale …branches… logs?
They are branches, and unrelated to the cold snap other than aesthetically, as that was shot indoors. Real branches, but in an ersatz setting.