In Deep Winter
In deep winter,
in the heart of cold,
his days are met
with endless snow
resembling nothing
so much as waves,
white as salt,
banked against
the walls of his house,
above window sills,
sealing doors,
denying escape.
He lost count
of the buried days,
so come the thawing,
the regaining of his lonely mind,
anywhere but here called,
whispering escape.
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