Winter is the End
Winter is the end
of all things. It is
frozen starlight
and empty trees
forgotten promises
and shivering dreams.
Winter is where the world goes
to die. It is the closing-up of earth
the shutting-down of light
the endless chill of infinite night.
Winter is when we turn
inside, where fires burn
and time crawls, too slow.
We scrape at the future, but
change is spent; winter
is the end. Yet the world turns
the sun burns, and
we emerge again.