Hiss
the icy mist
that falls to receding train.
Nightsound on ground
in bedded leaves seems rain
but is the elemental refrain.
Fleeting is always
Greetings' season cast,
all the colored lights that try
cannot make it last.
How New Year says start
but really, it's all now past.
These holidays, so fast.
This last dark night ours
hangs low like heavy washing
out to dry the hours
in defeating dampened air.
Ghastly gnarles
emerging there,
fogsplit beamed
the streetlights branches bare
wires, poles and masts.
Ships on seas of shadows past.
Pourpoise grey
and saviour salmon bright
the warring lights arc bright behind,
dueling swords that split the night
into childhood pieces of no-school mind.
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