Winter, when our days draw in and long
the nights, unending. Never comes a song
of cheer or gladness, only the small wind’s whine
through the tattered edges of our “For sale” sign.
All the empty houses, burdened by ice and snow,
lean one against the other as if wood could know
rejection’s painful outcome when the economy
tanks and “So long, folks, there’s nothing left to see.”
Photo by Logan Gibson: Snowy owl on a fencepost near Calgary, Alberta. Used with permission.