by John Grey
So cold, so sunless,
in these northern climes
and yet, in the distance,
horizon won’t go dark
as green dances deliriously
through brownish-red emissions,
glowing blue emulsions,
and solar wind blows pink and yellow.
The closer I draw my coat to me,
the wider my eyes open.
What once was shiver is now awe.
The air is bitter
but beauty will have none of it.
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in Transcend, Dalhousie Review and Qwerty with work upcoming in Blueline, Hawaii Pacific Review and Clade Song.