ode to a cold winter morning
The year dawns knife-bright,
ice-sparkling,
all deadly slick and sharp
and under that blinding glaze
as the sun pierces the mists
and leaves the world naked
and cold
I whisper every promise
of every bright thing
every sparkling dream
and watch my words become mist
and twist
and dance
and dissipate
in the winter-stark angles
of the late morning sun.