Dark Heart Shape Glasses Poem by Peter S. Quinn

In a substratum of heart shape glasses
The mountains and valleys of winter's night
Their moodiness of dark that now's in flight
Rushes with hillsides and morasses
An evening hour that still's here to come
Through cipher shadows that muster around
In to their own dance of nowhere else found
Of gyrating sputters of night's dumdum

Frosty way's mirrors around each their bend
Through lost doorways of their hidden meaning
Dreams that are like crows in their own darkness
With wings coming through for unmarked impend
Sights of earth eyes to the lost there gleaning
That to the day becomes less and less