Closed

The harsh winds
blow little rain
across
the endless waste

Moving ceaselessly
from south to north
sweeping away
all warmth

My glance is north
the road south is closed
the tide has turned
against me

Spring comes
on the late month
springtides
carrying no warmth

The sun may blaze
the flowers bloom
the trees turn green
young life erupt

But winter remains
in darkened corners
behind the mountain tops
where snow abides year round

My glance is north
the road south is closed
the east wind has carried
warmth away from the west