“All night there was an ultra-white moon
and now this is the inevitable freezing dawn,
orange and bright but blue around the edges,
above a sparkling landscape overcome with
an embroidery of black flowers and dwindling
death, which only annoys the evergreens,
ever the philosophical trees, scorning the
riotous existence of lesser plants who only
squander their legacies of light in desperate
displays of adulation beneath that ruthless
sky and then hysterically scatter seeds upon
an earth that is already hard as steel.
This arctic air arrives with super-sonic messages,
trumpeting that all this false gold and copper stuff,
seeming to flutter like paper money in their twiggy
fingertips, is merely a bribe being paid – in vain -
to those metallic idols who stand tall somewhere
knee-deep in mirroring ice and never relent.
On T.V. just now, the police were yelling, “Freeze!”
and firing their guns at him, but the boy kept on
running because he came from a much hotter
country and he didn’t know the meaning of the
word until he was dying among the evergreens."
Transitions interest me and in Canada we are constantly subjected to the battle between heat and cold and winter is never very far away, so this is a description of the sensations experienced when the forces of frost have won again.