Winter

Silver trees sparkle,
the diamonds of January.
The fireplace is a dear old friend
from a nudist colony.

The mystery is that
there is no mystery.
Everything is as promised.

There are commercial breaks
from the interesting.
Sales on refurbished hearts.
The galaxies speed away
From one another
as though broken by a cosmic
infidelity.

Winter is a parable
for surviving without Love –
that cheerful shyster with
echocardiograms tattooed on.