Winter is so cold
that shards of starlight break and
drift into the day.

Though you have fallen
you cannot help but rise up
like a heavy cream.

In the winter months,
the earth is a sleeping bear
who dreams of the spring.

Angels and demons:
beyond the world and yet still
enamored with it.

There is no white noise:
it’s a cacophony of
pandemonium.

Next generation,
whether nature or nurture,
we’re responsible.

His laugh lines faded
replaced by deep furrows of
worry and regret.

I am imprisoned
by these bitter memories
and my poor conscience.

The earth grows cold and
the leaves have left the trees like
ripples in a pond.

The mirror reveals
a face changed by the ages,
no trace left of youth.