Poem: Midnight Trek

 

Midnight Trek

 

snow sprawls austere,

intractable as a martian glacier

or an ascetic tutor fixated on death.

 

we tromp it like a fragile bridge between green valleys, 

between blue lakes and other 'what ifs,'

which are somehow still there.

it makes me wonder if the amused, cold stars

are perhaps not so cruel after all;

all those light years

maybe not so heavy that they crush us,

 or so dark that we die.

some heat trickles down, perhaps,  

from those many distant, much-worse voids,

and maybe it is winter's gift 

to reminds us.

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1/30 ... mods

9/28 ... fixed typo