THE DEAD OF WINTER
Day old snow and still dark cold
Coming home and listening to wishing
Through a tunnel of weighted boughs
Blue-shining and straining beneath their burden
His house is dark and strangely quiet
One light only shining eerie green
He is not where he sould be
Nestled in his cozy corner
He does not return
I sleep not knowing
That he sleeps just above me
A deep and dreamless kind
From which there is no waking
I am roused by the ringing of the bells
And I search for him again
With a spreading sense of dread
I find him never moving
A symbol of
The dead
Of winter
Kenton Adler c '92
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