Winter Premonitions
Winter scatters moth bones.
For a while,
it refreshes the turgid and lax.
Then the chill legs of small dancers
pirouette over warm bodies.
Flesh recoils, lungs curl around
each breath.
Hedgerows offer their huddled masses,
to the underground and hidden.
The light is going color blind,
Wind-crones whip rabbit hair
into wickiups
for the newly dying.
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