Winter strips The non-essential from the face Of the earth.

Each tree becomes an atlas Of dark roads trailing off into the dawn’s foggy sleet.

The hungry eye must Sleep now with the bear Curled in the bole,

The empty heart must Chime in the wind knocking At the door all morning,

And the blue fingers must Clutch and clench the coal brazier As if it was flesh and bone In that time of night sweats*.

* Recalling Thom Gunn's brilliant poem "The Man With Night Sweats", from his eponymous book of poems on the themes of AIDS, death, and love.