Winter Reaper

beneath the thaw,
the ice begins its crack,
piece by piece
the trapped look to the skies
the charcoal gray of winter
turned into the velvet glow
of evening, the hope of
spring whispering still
maybe we’ll live, maybe,
they whisper,
while footsteps crunch above
a man reaping the darkness
in hood, stomp, stomp
steps crunch over trapped minds
the velvet glow
turning to black
while they capture the last glows
maybe we’ll live,
maybe,
darkness