We beat back the long grey clouds stretching out
coating the tops of our skyscraper world
and put down hard blankets of the deep chill
reaching through the flat-light afternoons to earth.
Long hours long nights long roads long horizons
November-February skies mix
together into mate tombstone paintings
until time strips away mistakes in paint.
coats put down for the darker times buckle
under the weight of the calendar wind
long days, long songs, long lights come pouring in
Spring drenched sirens come to call away grey
birds pull back winter curtains from rooftops
and we throw up the blue-stained skies again