In early dimness,

a quiet, unmoving sky

chills, waiting for dusk.

Waiting in the cold,

trying not to let my mind

rush when all is calm.

Winter-whitened sun

makes a cold, pretty morning–

gentle, short-lived light.

Bitter, windy, dark,

clattering cold strikes the rain,

sharp, overwhelming.

My body wants to obey

its demand for sleep.

Night will creep even further.

I wane with the day.

but pale; sun’s cheek tilts away;

black, with yellow flags waving

gentle in the wind.