December days
so cold and dry
No questions, she says
But I want to ask, Why?
These wintry chimes
alarm the dead winds
that approach
like a cautionary tale
and whisper
in our dampened ears
a lovesong so forlorn
that it’s sung
by empty nests
on greying trees
We must be cautious
She sips from an empty cup
while I twirl in my fingers
both our fates
wondering where
we are going to meet next.
A heathen poet 