The night is time I most prefer
Mountains are weighed down by frost
Edges of surroundings start to blur
In serrated silhouettes get lost

A black ribbon worn in hair
The snow-brushed strands split apart
Screen lights up the words that sit there
Faint white glow illuminates heart

Under yellow moon I hope
Here I dangle feet off a ledge
All that supports this slippery *****
Will give the nudge over the edge

Not enough for the world or me
Let my words be ignored
Great painter of poetry
Soul into these stories poured

Afraid of wild longing
Forest-laden place I roam
Will rush into feelings of belonging
Bound to be my final home