Musing on a cold night

Musing on a cold night

So much cold in this winter light,
swathes of stars in a winter night,
I hold my breath.

For nights are long and short the days
of swirling mist not summer haze,
small feathered death.

I pluck a star, a white-rimed leaf,
that fell to earth from velvet sky,
I feel its grief

for all that’s lost and nothing found
and time’s a thief, we watch it fly
without a sound.