in the middle of winter
bite down on the harness,
in the middle of winter,
a wicked test of the will,
in the middle of winter,
a beast pulling on the chains,
in the middle of winter,
loneliness is visceral,
a fortuitous frost line and dirty ice,
a weak sun and salt rusted water,
melting dog shit and mud matted garbage,
buckets of diesel and coffee,
the last days of the winter,
pull a grey sky open,
unveiling the human insult,
the meager cry of the vain animal,
the last days of winter,
same thing all along,
coming into being,
then it's gone,
now pull a grey sky open,
there's black behind the blue,
I shouldn't worry about tomorrow,
but I always do,
now pull a grey sky open,
get a sense of the vastness,
which gives way to a chill,
giving way to a shiver,
nothing is forever,
not even the winter.
