Winter poem 2017

After a semester of having to make logical sense I need to indulge the part of me that seems to communicate in images and weird feelings. I'm not sure if anyone will get anything out of this poetry, my eyes often glaze over when reading poems, but our muses drive us in strange ways...

Winters are more dream than day
More fugue state than season; searing white and night spin
the Big Bear 'round the Pole star
black ravens tumbling against the icy blue, shining Orion rising to hunt the void

a south-west wind blows me back to childhood sledding, adventure days in the snow-laden mountains telling of spring
winter magic,  I no longer trust
the pyre smoking in the weak dawn, blasted, a single lightening bolt, a gateway of fire opened now closed 
fox prints circle the cinderblock rim

I am the professor that follows the fox trails from class to class
unseen we check the library walls for pine grosbreak bodies, dead from 3-stories of mirrored windows
alone the snowy trails entwine us in a world of others
strangers' lifelines cross and recross and part, never speaking never seen, tangled together

monochrome magic, frozen flesh magic
embolden by the waning daylight, the stars grow feral,
outer space pours down to reclaim the precarious planet
bent to rekindle crematory coals with vaporous breath I find
grey ashes topped by ornate spires of frost

another 6 o'clock morning, sunrise still hours off,
the Moon greets me in this cold limbo, joyously
just like that, joyously
Chickadee awaken in the hawthornes
it is a deep cold to crack stone hearts