I won’t throw sorrow to the winter yet, to have
Grief blown in gusts through chimney smoke
Tears mingled with drizzle down window panes
Loss fractured like hard rime on the windward ridge.
I keep it close as I would keep her,
In full knowledge that this mourning cloak
Provides no warmth with its cold black folds.
I will let it go in time
That time when I no longer fear
That without its harsh comfort I would shatter.