December Fourteen

Banshee in the headlights,
sleek quiver of points bristle -
Fly little arrows fly!
There is no kindness,

in this moment only broken hearts.
No one should find such such a day.

Grendel in the headlights
the growling ache of Saint Lucy.

Her bright party sinks with a mired night
and stars ring the winter sky.
Ashes turn to dust, 
we all fall down.

Cherubs in the headlights
lifting on frozen beams.

No time to say goodbye,
no way to accept surrender,
our most precious forever, and 
we could only promise to be brave.



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