In The November Circling Ways Poem by Peter S. Quinn

In the November circling ways
Surrounded by dark nothingness
The hours of its deep blue grays
With not much of hope or caress
The coils of these trials in rime
Snowy footsteps onward going
Ice of high evening darkish prime
Where frost mirrors alley's glowing

Its time between lighting states
Of frontiers in blissful twinkling
The moments of darkish debates
In snowy fall air besprinkling
When light bulb to a light will show
All those merry glowing sparking eyes
Of indefinite day in icy snow
In weather of confronted surprise

The night is to profound to hold
With many its unknown trespassing
When day to night dream shall unfold
In its shadowy dance crevassing
Yawning longs of snowy far routes
On to the isolated distance breach
Like rivers of glistening fade-outs
That hard in this cold is to reach