Abrupt dusk comes like early guests
Intruding on the afternoon;
The icy wet, with callous touch,
Explores my neck; the wind says soon
The snow will fill the black sky.
Some instinct, old as bones, again
Says bend to this imperious wind,
Old despot of the frozen plain.
But not tonight, not now, not here!
Along Fifth Avenue, I see
The windows into scenes from dreams,
Kaleidoscopic gaiety:
Not snow, but shoulders white; not ice
But grinning glass with mist of mirth,
From lips that curve around a laugh.
And darkness? Look, above the Earth,
In tier upon exuberant tier,
A brash geometry of light!
I long to tell you, passerby,
How glad I am for man, tonight.
Copyright ©
Walter Donway, all rights reserved