There are Some Illusions …

Winter dark drops its
Sharp-sudden chill
Like a heavy, studded cape
Across field, path and copse.
Moonrise wind grips
Our bones with
White-wolf fangs.

Northern rain will mate
With less-than-zero air
This December night:
Snow’s gentle manacles
Are coming to restrain us all.

But I have seen
Faith, hope and trust
In the eyes
Of Christmas youngsters –
From behind the
Beard and fairy mask –
For the first time.

There are some illusions,
That we should not
Rush to destroy.


“Lonely am I …”

“Lonely am I …”

Sobbed the wolf,

“This cold is persistent;

Bites like a legend!”


“I am bigger

Than mere winter,”

Riverstone moon replies.

“We both understand

Loneliness is a choice

We make for ourselves,

Because we relish

The torment.”