Winter's Insomnia

Winter is approaching, steadily,

like a white army, and the trees

are all standing around talking

about it, their hair colored

just from thinking. The river gives

up its ghost to the cold,

and everyone I think of

wants to be remembered.

Sleepless,

our losses fall out of the air like snow.

I want one thought to wander

deep into a thicket,

its tracks disappearing as it goes.

But the cat in the refrigerator purrs,

its claws hover in the air.

Farmhouses float across the dark,

and on the other side of the mountains

a city casts a red glow.

As if from a great distance,

I hear snow beginning to fall.