Repeat Ritual

The late January hour prepares
to complete its compact with the
day. There yet remains ample
light to refract gloriously from the
ice shards glittering like jewels
fallen from Winter Wonderland
forest branches shed carelessly on
mounded snowbanks by the wind
gusting ferociously on the frigid air.

The setting sun burns a fiery hole
in the wide expanse of sky, setting
afire the wisps of white cloud
gathering in an excitement of orange
bonfire of the heavens, inspired by
that ovoid furnace feverishly flaming
but to no avail on the landscape
utterly consumed in frozen white.