Sun/Day/Dream
Winter howled down hard
upon the dreamscape.
A choreography
of horizontal snow,
banshee wind,
gear-gathering bustle
and the premise
of a life endangered,
emergent evacuation.
A mother
left behind by request
found hard upon return
by grievous son
who lifts the piled quilts,
sees the white-haired
old woman dead,
her small hands
raised most childlike
to her slightly smiling,
frozen face-
a moving mimicry
of cozy dozing.
He sobs at this
and writes the poem,
red-inked, immediate
upon her pillow.
Weak words congealed
along the edge of
a cold, closed circle.
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