Lip Of The Abyss

Dawn unwinds a yawn.

The crush of raven cold
on morning’s weak shoulders.

An old black dog barks.
Gelid avians flutter south.
Cars gasp and sputter.
Hearts won’t jump start.

The depth of frozen.

Margin of mysteries
where calculations collapse,
where hope hides

Dreams of newer days,
of warmth and touch,
of better and much.

What will come will be.
What isn’t, won’t.

Push the portal open.
Take a tentative step.

We shall see. We shall see.