The ground is reckless with muses; gravitated surrogates

for winter, the frosted females are shamed under foot,

peppering the sole with token orphans, catalogues of red heads

and brunettes, dried, silent, under damage control

arachnids,  slashing the slothful firmament, furrowing

cheek to chest with bitter noses and hasty games of solitaire

to warm the guts when all is pulped in grey. 

The horizon is anorexic - brittle and meagre, advertising

Exiguous as beauty until colossal winds breathe

bounties of cold locusts; delirious.  The holocaust,

just a ghost passing through, limping

for hearts, knows the earth

is ardent, an organ of relics to feast with verve

and sing, but nevertheless trembles for now,

 scalded

by an orchestral chandelier.