Winter sunlight shines

Low and orange through stained glass

Fingerprint halos

As the nights stretch out

We tilt away from the sun

Time to hibernate

Tired shoulders bow

Creaking under heavy loads

I am no Atlas

So we stumble on

Into the growing darkness

Further from our home

Dewy cobwebs gleam

Otherwise invisible

In the low sunlight

Gentle grey fog cloaks

Another night on the moor

Quick! Bury the hoard!

From inside the crypt

Tremulous cries resounding

Full of dead men’s bones

I know an old man

You hit his white teeth he laughs 

But black teeth he cries

Paw prints in clean snow

Tattered clothing sprayed in red

Siberian cats

Through bleary red eyes

Through many long night watches

Puzzle pieces placed

There’s a heavy fog

Hanging in the morning light

Movement in shadows

Lost in starless skies

Lost in a murky woodland

Reeling, sinking, lost

A round silver plate

Plays hide and seek with thin clouds

All the long dark night

Crystal morning dew

Hangs misty on the black lake

Smeared through bleary eyes

Since the Equinox

Beset by lonely questions

Why even bother

Quiet afternoons

Before the children leave school

Doze the day away

Feline rotations

Reshaping folded bedsheets

While I slumber on

Stacks of used bottles

Chips scattered ‘cross carpet

Tell last nights’ stories 

The beats of my heart

Synchronised with the bass drum

A twitching puppet

As I journey on

Navigating with the stars

I ask am I lost?

Cloaked in thick darkness

Between the crawling earthworms

Where files go to rest

The blue morning haze

Rises up from sun warmed earth

A new dawn unveiled

The looming mountains

Set alight as Autumn leaves

I am high and dry