The Meaning of Half Winter

By Thoms Sayers

I want to know
The Meaning of things

February’s prism
Half lit planets

Side-eyed glances

The shoreline’s dull grasses

There is a thermal rigidity
An index of clouds

Late afternoons mumble
Some reminder

Or a tinge
Blue staccato

The black dog
An icy channel

What was there once
And then after