At the Still Point

Another morning in tears
The piano hammers out
You catch yourself absconding with
All the worlds heavy truths
To flirt with the foolish optimism that
Is the start of winter
Drunken absurdities:
'it will be romantic
There is beauty in the cold!'
There is not
And it will try and kill us
That is a truth that all the trees know
We stray too far from the sun
The Earth strains at it’s tether