The Winter Shade

My first blizzard in Michigan brought to mind unexpected ideas, and this poem, about a ghost lost in the snow....

The brittle winter night

Teems with replicas of trees

Wilted shrubs, shuddering with fright

The blackened pond it flows, sucking in the light,

As the wind breathes harsh and ragged in its icy might.


The willow woman wanders, beneath cold indifferent stars

Knowing things she can’t possibly know

Gowned and frightened in the snow

She belonged once, in this world of ours

But now she’s aimless in the winter glow.


The voices call relentlessly but have no sound

Baleful beings churning in the ground,

She follows. Nowhere else to go,

As they track her with sharpness of a hound

In what madness is this world so bound?


Collectors gather in the cold tonight

Waiting for the lost to come, denied their sight

Icy roads paved with wonder, lost to all mankind

Are waiting in the darkness where the moon is right.


All those who dare to follow the strange beings that wait,

Eagerly anticipating hellish fates

Will never see the sun rise in the height of spring

Or feel the light; know the peace, and how to sing

Of better places beyond fear or hate.


This captivated spirit decides not to stay

The voices call her with so much to say

Perhaps this world is lost, but she is not bound

She can move on and lift beyond the ground.

The Collectors cannot follow to a brighter day

But the lost can always find another way.

The End

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