January Wind

The trees are bending and creaking,
a vacant sound
that leaves me feeling empty.

Leaves scrape the ground,
eddy like a brook in confusion.
Curbs and stones corral
for briefest moments.

Wind also brings
a cold that is deeper than freezing,
the kind of cold
that seizes up sap in boughs.

I don’t know why I am searching,
I feel so cold.
I shiver at what I might find:

eyes frozen hard as marbles, 
a face of stone
and what would be even more frightening:
smiles frozen on.