January Dreamers

The sleepers wake in January
and wring their white hands.

They turn to each other,
pale and damp, and say,

did you feel that? A sort
of wave in the air, 

a plunge in the temperature?
Maybe we dreamed it. 

Maybe it will go back
to how it was. Maybe, even,

it’s still the same and we know
it will go back. Yes, we’re sure

of it. Let’s stay up a little while
and wait for that and then

we can fall again to sleep
under the warm cover.

So they sit up and wait
until the air cracks even colder.

They shrug and go back 
to sleep, dreaming 

they will always have enough cover
to stay warm, dreaming

of spring’s return,
of fire on the hearth at home,

all the way to Beyond The Cold,
back to the Used To Be;

when they do not wake,
their dreams having been  

trumped by the cold,
they are eventually pulled

from their beds and tossed
alive and unbelieving into

newly built pyres
of an ancient design.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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