Night Howls, Day Weeps

In the night I heard the wind howl,
and in the morning frost fell on dirt.
Cold air choked the shivering stars
until the dawn rose to its throne.
The birds awoke to their trembling song,
a chorus for the promise of warmth.
If the moon knew no yearning it would
still carry a slow, fading paleness.
If the sun knew no sorrow it would
still burn in the depths of darkness.
A sour wind from the south
steals the breath from my blue lips:
night howls, day weeps from the trees.


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