“the thin blue flame
Lies on my low-burnt fire, and quivers not”
—Samuel Taylor Coleridge, from “Frost at Midnight”

I get confused about red. Is it
a door, pair of jeans, or a flashing
light I want to guide me
toward the darkest day? Again, the longest night will stretch

into that moment
of optimism when all shrinking
is done and I can almost imagine
the view from the sun.

What Was That You Said about Capricorns?

No longer his day, it will
come around again—
through slowly stretching

hours of light into shrinking
nights till contraction and expansion
trade places, then trade

again. Just after that final click
to go in reverse, his day
will return. And I hope to be

around to touch it—those untouchable
vibrations and holds.