Temptress, winter

It was always early in the evening, after
Dread-drifts from a blizzard left new accumulation
Everywhere, and all else was only muffled twilight.
Silence traced by a cold, icy breeze. Forecasts say “more to come,”
But the peace is so palpable, now where people are not, and
Being tempted, you go out into it, layered in coats to brace
The chill, walking foolishly through snowbanks, soft and
Short at the knee, many more treacherous feet to pile by morning.
Only you, and the glow of streetlights, and a longing
Sense to go further off, wander, follow “L’appel du vide,”
Out into the thin forest, deep away, and perhaps
Never to be seen again.
© SXT 2024