Middle of the night

And the sky is white,

Just as the land below.

The sound is absorbed

By the deep-crushing stuff

As the chill sinks in to your bones.

Round the edges the world

Seems a dark charcoal shade,

A contrast to the pale above.

The places you knew so intimately

Are changed into feelings anew,

But it’s only in fragment, piece, and part

You can notice the lacework of difference.

The chill of the heavens for once has descended,

The stars scattered in blanketing shards.

There’s a soft-seeming curve and rise

To the surface that wraps over all you see,

And to fall in silence beneath it

Is to disappear, lost to resolve and memory.