Winter

Winter, it longs for your body pulls the sight
along, pushes you to darkness.
You cover your lapses with song, with snow-
Many woolen thoughts crush against my life
but you are so light.
You lie in the snow to sleep, curl in death
that steams and calls to you.
You are its own life its breath on the glass,
its future, its servant.
Many nights I have seen you snow gazer no
nightlite stars, only the quiet sleep spoken
of in crystal slivers that break in your brain;
you are lost to the pain
you are left to the streets
you are lost
to the snow
to the songs
to the pain that never sleeps
but burrows deep to the heart of things,
lost to the crystalline nerve end, lost to
the sound of shattering glass.


Carol Brown ©