Evergreens surround your house,
a fortress wall heavy with snow.
In black recesses I wade,

the snow bounds off the branches
finds bare ankles inside my boots,
my hair, a teaspoon down my collar.

I approach your home
to find windows boarded and
roof patched.

You are dying there,
heaving, uneven breaths,
a fortress with no treasure

except silence
and blue light reflecting
off white.

The grimy sky hovers,
its cold rolling in.
We wait.

On watching Bonni.