Reflection in a Cold Season

In this season
late, so late,
bark roughens in the cold
The tree limbs are thin
& harsh, drawn close to the bone

Ravens call in the grey air
ragged against the tumbled sky
in a season when words like
lonely, or cold
can cut the unwary to the bone

She looks out
through an icy window
in a cold room where
there was laughter
& love in the firelight
long ago, in another season

If she looks
at just the right angle
she can see the bones of her face
reflected in the windowpane,
can see threadbare grey clouds
echoed in her hair
& ravens
calling like heartbreak
in her eyes