On the edge of uncertainty

 
Soon this place will turn yellow with angry winds,
the vague memories of spring change
 
into the twilight of blizzards, power failure,
torn cables and ghostly shapes snowed-under.
 
Snowdrifts end up piled-high at entrances,
frozen windows turn opaque in silence
 
and with the feeling of threat and death
the fires continue to rage in the cities, devour
people, their faces, their thoughts,
 
burn the houses down, the parks with the old trees,
scorch the wings of birds, whose lifeless bodies float down the gullies.
 
Soon there will only be strangers, who take our places
somewhere below us,
 
the other level, where everything resurrects and birds
open their wings again and nobody asks why and what for –
 
This new day will be different, nameless, relentless,
but with confidence and urgency for anonymity
 
on the edge of uncertainty; there are no rules anymore
and all is moving steadily towards the northern latitude of the horse
 
past the charred fields, beyond the afterglow
and the scintillation to recover what was taken from us
 
the houses, the fenced paddocks, the woods, the bogs
and to forget the raging fires, the broken glass
and the colour of blood.