Winter, NY


It’s not the cold I fear but what it brings
The sky lowers its curtain
Cleans streets emptier than my heart

Blank roads
Silent squares
No friends, no laughter, no music
Every hour is 4 AM
Birds do not stay
Twitch, twist, turn away
Smell the trackless fall of
Snow invisible, soft and wet
Creatures of air
Smaller than breath
Our sighs spirit their ships
To inner swamps of sea and mist
Where they hook their new home
Curdling blood and chilling bone
Freezing us in their embrace
Burning brains white
Those we love
Speed their rise
Our cool ends
I will pray for fresh stars
Constellations of spring
Stunning the clock to change its hour
We must still carve its hands
But they will mark a new time

Posted in Covid.