Aria
Snow-reft
change came
and left
the same,
in many ways
prayer
breaks,
whether out
of breath
or time to
spare,
to care
the radiator
door is open
but its frame
is shut,
barely
a peep
of a ray
comes through to
me,
the snowstorm left
is one deep
breath aria.
--
How your
tired moan
before
the first snowy
night even
fell
won't leave my
mouth.
Wet steam
pooling up at
the grates of such
squat, covered
chimneys
isn't ready to,
but leaves
in cordons
fine as bare
branches.
This simple
season is
touched by
fantastic
pain too, in
that bravery.