Into the valley

the cold creeps,

creeps through

as she assembles the heavy thickness of her dark,

darkest clouds

rolling down,

down from the mountains

into the red and the yellow and the orange trees,

into the beds of the fellows and their faithless dreams.

Say your prayers tonight young men,

she will snake her way over and in-between your sheets;

she will turn on you in seconds

and make it so there is no daylight left–

there is nothing more you can do but shiver and hush

as she ices the windows and lays a solid sheet of callous

across the grass and your deceit.