Cold LifeAll was visual;
Winter, a suggestion
Open back packs, turning pages, strangers walk purposefully,
You stood by the bus stop chanting some rhythm in your mind
To distract from your visible breath
Hanging like a white sheet you swear might be a ghost.
Looking for morning
A streak of sun to coax your soul
Back behind black lashes
sweet sleep cancelled by
Nature has held stronger grudges than any
Yours and mine
Blunt and blind hurtling sorrow
Tore clouds and earth apart.
Those gentle moments before the world went insane
A child's comprehension, boundless,
Like merciful moon, glowing, innocent.
Desperate days of worry
Waste the glassy contour away
Is tainted, stricken, sharp
Like sad little people slowly disappearing beneath white dust
A snow globe or a trap?
Winter leaves no comment.