Even in the harrowing hours of the night,
the witching hour, you may say
I stand in an open field in nothing more than a scarf and hat
awaiting the world to come crashing down with fire in her hands.
My ******* perk from hiding,
a warm and loving embrace from the cool winter air,
and the hair on the back of my neck raises with intent on reaching the sky,
I stare forward at the midnight black - awake and so full of stars.