In Violet Light
In violet light the fields are filled with snow,
Which drifts in blue-white wavelets, row by row.
Two frozen burial mounds are heaped up high
Beside the road where walks a weary guy,
Lumbering home another mile or so.
From time to time a lone car crunches by,
But never stops, and leaves him with the cry
Of howling winds which never cease to blow
In violet light,
The brutal winds that sting and stab each eye,
And whip his face until he, too, must cry.
His freezing body, numbed from foot to thigh,
Demanding he lie down a while, to die,
He trudges on: Just one more mile to go
In violet light.
~~
George J. Dance, 2015
from Logos, and other logoi, 2021
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