a snowy Saturday in January and i wish you were here

a snowy Saturday in January and i wish you were here

a dense, grey gruel
of cadaverous air,
slanders the chimney pots.

birds hang on branches
like tears
clinging to an eyelash.

behind the snow clouds,
a shivering sun,
works frantically,
at warming the morning.

the faintest,
softest rays of sunlight
sing the spider webs,
and lifted with a melody of grace,
they tremble unsure
heavy hearted
with the promise of further snow.

the sunlight has given up suddenly.
and the sky belongs to the magpies now,
bright white and blackened at the edges
as night begins, already,
to show through day.

i shiver,
closing the curtains to the cold.
i remember how it feels holding you close –
curved like a pair of inverted commas.
and the feeling is uncomplicated:
it’s a snowy Saturday in January and i wish you were here…