A Darker Lady

November fog is choking
the village of light

houses devoured
in premature night;

the sun came out
like a fair-haired girl

and shrank the mist
to a golden curl;

now a darker lady
stalks ice-damp streets

freezing the bones
of all she greets;

even the boy racer
leaves his car

now he won’t
be going far

because all day
her misery lingers

a prickle in numb
toes and fingers

and a shiver
in the beaded trees

- as night plummets,
the deeper freeze;

few will be happy
to sense the ghost

who hates our
summer memory most