Winter

Cold

Winter’s minion howls
It’s frigid moonlight keening
Rends the mind and soul

Midnight’s lustrous moon
Bears witness to the promise
Of the newborn year.

Winter’s trees stand watch
Their last recalcitrant leaves
Heralding the spring

The last light of day
Paints the leafless canopy
With an auburn glow.

The night air’s cold hand
reaches down and pulls my breath
in shards from my chest.

I wake before three
I go to freeze on dark tides
For another’s riches

Warm, vaporous plumes
Her breath, turning to crystals
That cling to my face.

Icy daggers hang
Dripping in the winter sun
Waiting for the fall.