LONGEST NIGHTS
the smoke of owls
and the sparks of their prey.
the howl of darkness
and the howl of the dawn.
mist tumbles off the snowline,
jaundiced is the air.
fields lie fallow,
their farmers large as hills
and dark, watching for good time.
tumbled clouds tangled
in the sallow valley.
Scarce enough warmth
to go around the village,
scarce enough words.
a golden light within
everything, though.
pooled translucent light.
a river story blessing.
a famous birth
and a death that disguises glory.
—
simonhlilly 
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