winter silhouettes
a copse of sailboat masts cut
from the dawning sky
Slumber
waiting for the thaw
beneath fallen leaves and snow
a box turtle sleeps
–
frosted windows-
deeply burrowed
under blankets
Soltice
the year’s longest night
herald the winter solstice
ere the morning comes
–
watching our breath-
the black of night
pierced by stars
Homeless
a torn cap worn low
collar turned against the wind
shrouded in darkness
–
a squalid doorway-
scant shelter from
the bitter cold
Mists
early morning haze
the pale tint of the full moon
just above the trees
–
first light-
the fog and I
rise together
Frigid
contemplating life
and remembering the dead
this cold winter night
–
the cutting north wind-
heavily laden with
bitter freight
Solstice
absent sounds of night
muffled by the blanket of
winter’s arrival
–
sudden snow
a southbound flight
interrupted
Deception
I’ve changed all my locks
somehow your keys still fit in
and still turn me on
–
cold winds blow
your call comes through
in the dead of night
Hence
waiting for the train
a low mournful whistle drones
off in the distance
–
an iron sky
heavy snow falls
on distant peaks
Slumber
waiting for the thaw
beneath fallen leaves and snow
a box turtle sleeps
–
frosted windows-
deeply burrowed
under blankets
Soltice
the year’s longest night
herald the winter solstice
ere the morning comes
–
watching our breath-
the black of night
pierced by stars
Homeless
a torn cap worn low
collar turned against the wind
shrouded in darkness
–
a squalid doorway-
scant shelter from
the bitter cold
Mists
early morning haze
the pale tint of the full moon
just above the trees
–
first light-
the fog and I
rise together
Frigid
contemplating life
and remembering the dead
this cold winter night
–
the cutting north wind-
heavily laden with
bitter freight
Solstice
absent sounds of night
muffled by the blanket of
winter’s arrival
–
sudden snow
a southbound flight
interrupted
Deception
I’ve changed all my locks
somehow your keys still fit in
and still turn me on
–
cold winds blow
your call comes through
in the dead of night
Hence
waiting for the train
a low mournful whistle drones
off in the distance
–
an iron sky
heavy snow falls
on distant peaks
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