January

It arrives like a lad who ran miles,
sprawls on the snowy field,
put an eye on the days go by like
the wind-swept clouds.

Slipping near the end
of the stage, the fire within cools;
the heart of the frozen lake.

But the core of it still hangs on 
to the warmth of the sun by day,
shivers by night, comprehensive.  

©Byung A. Fallgren