Winter Sky

Phillip Brown

In the cold hours
Of mornings in February,
When the trees
Begin their invocation,

The moon,
Amongst the last remaining stars,
Sinks into a horizon
Touched with silent blue.

The blue of a clear sky,
Frozen in the night, just
Starting to thaw.

The light drips into my bedroom,
Dissolving the faded shadows
That stain the painted walls.

In the silence

I hear only my breath
Melting the frosty landscapes
Etched in my window.