Saturday, October 30, 2010


You lie quiet and indifferent to us beneath the inversion layer at the foot of Mount Iron
We wait for the sun to break through and lick away the June-hardened dew
By the time it does you will be gone, beyond the reach of any frosty morning breath-held air or our numb fingers
We'll hold you warm in our hearts
Although it is more for our comfort than for yours