Bring on the Nights

Let the thermometer drop,
red dipping low on that totem pole
scanning the lack of flavor;
no heat in the air.

I listen to the trees crackling
and cold as they contract into their bark,
their roots curl toes up,
branches brittle as bones.

Winter always scares the studio of golden haze
that raids the gardens of their wholly won delights,
green and sweet nectar abundant in the sun--
fingers holding greedily and tight to the brilliant bunches
of the easy life of July and August.

But I say bring the nights as soon as you can.
Bring the nights full of stars and breath that freezes
before it escapes easily to earth, astounded by the beauty of pinholes
that leaped into the heavens
and dance 
unafraid to be embraced
under thick blankets
of time twisting in a dream
of lovely gaps--

the truth of the mind
suspended in the subtle body
of time.