Out of Site, Out of Mind

Out of Site, Out of Mind

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I feel the north wind
stripping the trees
as it races across the lake.
What was once my canopy
is now my blanket.

Of all the insufferable solitudes of winter,
yours was to be the coldest.
How does the raven fly
blinded by snow,
anguished by weighted wings?
Does it cry for night
so it may die,
out of sight, out of mind?

I feel the wind chills,
the bitter cold breaths,
tears biting my cheeks.

How sharp are temperatures
when words sting the face?

Desperate to find a solitary flame,
a single spark against the ice,
warmth against a frozen world.
What makes the summer solstice
an eternity away?
Emotions that cry for night
so they may die
out of sight, out of mind.