Winter: Settling in

Tonight I call upon last Friday,  
the taste of numb,  
buried in the underground,  
call forth the gloriousness of relinquishing -  
here, in the season of our Nyx,  
here, in the depths of year's day-fall,  
the longest night goes groaning,  
faces lit up,  
blazed by electric or firelight.  
I call the satisfaction of remembering,  
of unfurling, unpicking  
all those reasons to hide,  
checking how cold the night -  
Herringbone scarves  
and Grandmother's coat,
cigarellos, your fingers
wrapped around a handle,
never looking up.
It's the power to withstand
our many adaptations.