Winter

The sleepy morning woke with a shiver in the coldest night of the year The sleepless birds charged into the sky And a snake wheeled further into an unending cosmic circle on a twig (floating) in a languid bottomless well Its crippled tail (with much tenderness) steers the vessel further toward a hopeless mythical shore. The well is deep and dark The night has not yet left And deep under the ground the snake forms an unearthly constellation With the few remaining stars reflected down In the deep Untamed abyss. One day to the snake in its mystic duty fulfilled Death will come as a peacock It will unfur its feathers and reveal all the freshly reaped souls attached in its tail (that strangely will look like eyes flickering in his qeer artful dance)