We shudder down the overgrown back lanes,
Under black-bark trees, sparkling with snow,
Swaybacked in the December winds that blow
Cold enough to freeze blood inside your veins.
We cross tracks long forgotten by their trains.
We skirt the swirling river’s frozen flow,
Wind through valleys where false-dawn skies hang low
As shadows dapple us in purple stains,
Through the sleepy city at first light, gold
Silhouetting the snaggletooth skyline.
Our heavy eyes open and we unfold
From the hard vinyl seats where we recline.
Stepping off the bus, into the dim gray
Of morning, I walk into pale new day.