A Northern boy dreams of peace

I do not miss the cold,

the frozen fingers and toes.

I do not miss the danger of black ice,

the drifting snows of winter,

but sometimes – when I close my eyes,

I see the woods

stripped of summer green.

Naked trees dressed

in crystalline lace.

Clean and pure and fresh,

before the crunch of boots

or the glare of sunrise

defile the world

in a cold embrace.

In that cock’s crow moment,

I remember the promise of peace

and it calms me

just before the sun bursts

on the horizon of my dream.

9-17-26