Who Knows where the time goes

something is about these empty roofs
laid barren not set right
all in winter hollow feelings
that stirs bones to slumber. 

It's not even in the cold
wrapping things but it's the faltering.
Nodding heads around winter fires
forget and fall behind.

No mind the ice we scurry around
in worry. 
Giving breath to dark night
that swallows all it can take.

long since wings took southward
I can't hear their song.

No more days hunting,
instead cry for the prey.



As a little bit into my process i wrote out this paragraph first and then sort of chopped and moved it into the poem above.


there is something about the empty roofs laid barren that doesn't sit right. All in the winter hollow feeling that stirs the bones to slumber.  It's not even in the cold that wrapped everything but the faltering.  Those not raising their heads from winter fires and falling behind.  And no mind to the ice we skurry around in worry.  Giving breath to the darkening night that swallows all it can take. It's been long that wings took southward, I can't hear their song. I'll spend no more days hunting, instead I cry for the prey.