Here is my entry into Vivian Kirkfield's #50PreciousWords contest for this year!
Dad zips the jacket over my striped pajamas.
It’s late, says Mom,
but he pretends not to hear.
Our flashlights make moons in the snow.
Trudging through the frozen forest,
holding each other’s mittened hands,
stars wink between bare, creepy treetops.
Listening for the mournful owl
On our night walk.