Hot off the press after weeks of tinkering.
The clocks go back and winter moves forward,
all along the Clyde windows start closing.
Trees retract, leaves fall back and winter moves
further north. Morning makes frost shatter in
the sun like the memories of summer
and spring; broken hearts for another year.
It seemed like autumn was yesterday, when
the trees shed their skin arbitrarily,
the cold removing the life from the air.
Then we wrap up warm as the icy winds
begin to get under the skin of our
increasingly distant bodies; we’re
all more than a little miserable
during the time the wind gets at your bones.
In cold distant space, the sun has never
been further away. The time has come to
hibernate, and wait for life to begin again.