brick house break

The slim brown tree branches are still and the hail is pelting. The dog is snuffling in the brush on the town side of the property where the road turns. There is a grove of mixed trees and abundant stones remaining from the clearing day. In the slate grey light the farm is once again a black pencil sketch. In the distance, over the gulley and across the creek the red barn stands bright. Commuters pass between towns in big pickups and small cars. The orange yard light signals the end of the day and return to the icy yard and heated home.

The dog is wet and gleeful, carrying in her snowy jaws the frozen remains of a beast from the woods.