Winter's Malady (Sonnet)
Frail Winter has soon taken to her bed
where stricken with a malady for days,
to sip her bitter tea with sorrow's bread,
her gown of rime now weathered as she prays.
The requiem is sung; no warmth remains
as icy shards of nightfall closes in
and darkness spreads like poison in her veins,
as slow and stealthy as a hidden sin.