Chilly Night
A chilly wind blows tonight, with stiff lips,
whistling a dirge down the dark, empty glen
Clouds hover in an apple-crisp night sky
Thin, streaming clouds, stingy clouds
Smoke from a fat little house, painted gray,
streams like banners in a circus show ring
Pussy willows shiver in sweaters, too thin
Ducks across the moon flying shadows
Their moonlit wing become brushes painting
swaths over restless, empty spring meadows
Wind is a chorus of devils singing,
spitting breath across all that sleep in peace
Only when the rising sun melts the sky
will stillness come and relentless wind cease,
greeting the morning with a hollow sigh
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