Winter Clinging

Tangle your anxious keeping fingers
around that last cluster of sunshine,
before the curtain of fur and pine
rises to a cold, blue close,
concluding ultraviolet scarf of warmth
before the plummet,
birds and motors murmuring
between bug songs and questions: why
the loss of people to progeny, that all-consuming country,
why my lethargy to leave, to move,
why the luck of the annual draw in happiness
as the sunshine trickles at last
through oak branches and seeps into the hillside
and a hawk calls the end,
the breeze turns colder
by degrees
and everywhere sweaters
return to our bodies for another round
of loving.

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