The stick and the stick

Winter has nothing but cold words to say
baying it's thoughts
through the crack beneath the door
in yips and howls

like a dog on the heavy side of a stick
all limp snarl and empty growl
until the blue in his lips
has nothing more to do
with the bite in the bitter cold

the cracks in the kennel walls
don't leak now the waters set
the bone laying just out reach
was never worth the chains choke
or the boots heel

the wind says that given time
the fires die down
meat turns rank
patting hands turn feeble
and even winter shrouds
don't stay pure forever

so why not stop the whining?