Only dead fish go with the flow
mixed with black;
bloodshot eyes and aching back.
Nobody notices that
Atlas is now
a twenty-year-old girl
carrying a less than mediocre
Prepare for Winter's icy sudden grasp,
As time once more for her draws ever nigh;
Pure snow upon hard frozen ground doth clasp,
And breath is seen again—the smoke curls high.
Yet here, hard by, the blazing hearth you pore
All through the cold, 'til Spring returns once more.